Letra de Armchair quarterback
Ray Stevens
Well, the season's finally here and the players hit the field and every man feels like a boy and every wife could kill. He's been buying beer since August. Running hot and running cold and thirty friends are on alert...that's all the den will hold!
He's the Armchair Quarterback he's full of beer and full of snacks. The all-american man, with a cool one in his hand. The Armchair Quarterback he's kind of fun and kind of fat. The all-american man, with a cool one in his hand.
Now if you stand and block the screen you may just lose your life and that goes for all thirty friends and the thirty friends' wives. Then the den falls silent we just need a yard or two. They wouldn't change that channel now if the Rockett's came on nude. The announcer agrees with the referee but the den does not at all. And thirty fists are clinched in hate and pound upon the wall. Why any fool could see he made that first down when he dived! If Howard Cosell came in now he'd never get out alive. 'Cause he's the Armchair Quarterback he's full of beer and full of snacks. The all-american man, with a cool one in his hand.
The wives are all disgusted and they're meeting in the yard on their way to wear the numbers off our credit cards (shop, shop, shop)
He's got his six year old son, Billy, sittin' on the floor. Watching college wrap-up and writing down the scores. There stands uncle Andy bending empty cans. \"for god sakes, Andy, get that cool one out of Billy's hand!\". Well, what do you know it's half time where's the bathroom tell me please. Don't go outside 'cause the neighbors dog bites everything he sees. Well if they make it through the Super Bowl well she'll be happy then 'cause she'll get back her TV and he'll give up the den. He'll be tired and incoherent and he will not know his name. But he'll lift one eyelid just to say: \"wake me up for the ol' score game!\" with a cool one in his hand.
Broken pretzles in the rug. The beer cans could be worse. She'll clean it up tomorrow and dread September first when once again...ha ha...
The season's finally here and the players hit the field. And every man feels like a boy and every wife could kill. He's been buying beer since August running hot and running cold. And thirty friends are on alert...that's all the den will hold.
He's the Armchair Quarterback he's full of beer and full of snacks. The all-american man, with a cool one in his hand. Yeah, the Armchair Quarterback he's kind of fun and kind of fat. The all-american man, with a cool one in his hand.
(repeat and fade)
He's the Armchair Quarterback he's full of beer and full of snacks. The all-american man, with a cool one in his hand. The Armchair Quarterback he's kind of fun and kind of fat. The all-american man, with a cool one in his hand.
Now if you stand and block the screen you may just lose your life and that goes for all thirty friends and the thirty friends' wives. Then the den falls silent we just need a yard or two. They wouldn't change that channel now if the Rockett's came on nude. The announcer agrees with the referee but the den does not at all. And thirty fists are clinched in hate and pound upon the wall. Why any fool could see he made that first down when he dived! If Howard Cosell came in now he'd never get out alive. 'Cause he's the Armchair Quarterback he's full of beer and full of snacks. The all-american man, with a cool one in his hand.
The wives are all disgusted and they're meeting in the yard on their way to wear the numbers off our credit cards (shop, shop, shop)
He's got his six year old son, Billy, sittin' on the floor. Watching college wrap-up and writing down the scores. There stands uncle Andy bending empty cans. \"for god sakes, Andy, get that cool one out of Billy's hand!\". Well, what do you know it's half time where's the bathroom tell me please. Don't go outside 'cause the neighbors dog bites everything he sees. Well if they make it through the Super Bowl well she'll be happy then 'cause she'll get back her TV and he'll give up the den. He'll be tired and incoherent and he will not know his name. But he'll lift one eyelid just to say: \"wake me up for the ol' score game!\" with a cool one in his hand.
Broken pretzles in the rug. The beer cans could be worse. She'll clean it up tomorrow and dread September first when once again...ha ha...
The season's finally here and the players hit the field. And every man feels like a boy and every wife could kill. He's been buying beer since August running hot and running cold. And thirty friends are on alert...that's all the den will hold.
He's the Armchair Quarterback he's full of beer and full of snacks. The all-american man, with a cool one in his hand. Yeah, the Armchair Quarterback he's kind of fun and kind of fat. The all-american man, with a cool one in his hand.
(repeat and fade)
Letra de Armchair Quarterback de Ray Stevens
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