Letra de Friday

Hold on, hold on
Hold on, hold on

Oh yeah, he´s coming down the road
With his dad´s guitar hanging over his shoulder
He takes that Woody Guthrie pose
And says, "I´ll buy you cigarettes when you get older."
But that´s not what we want anyway
We came out to hear him play
Our own curbside concert, Friday at the Circle K
Hey hey, hey hey, Friday at the Circle K

We gather every week
To hear our own rest stop poet, though he can´t really sing onkey
Who cares? There´s music in the streets
And he plays his guitar as if she´s a girl like me
And now he´s looking my way
And I can´t think of one thing to say
La da da da dee da, Friday at the Circle K
Hey hey, hey hey, Friday at the Circle K

And when he touches me, it thrills me down to the curb
But if he saw my fantasies, he´d know how I am disturbed!
They go like this:

I follow where he goes
To Greenwich Village and San Francisco
He shows me everything he knows
And he will be a singer and I will be a singer too
And he will play guitar every day
And I will play guitar every day
We´ll say, "What a long way we´ve come from Friday at the CircleK!"
Hey hey, hey hey, Friday at the Circle K