Intro / Verse 1 Yeah, this ain’t a bar story This is a garage story Sunday in December Concrete floor cold enough to tell the truth Mike rolls in just to drop something off Says he won’t stay Nobody ever plans to I hand him a bottle ’cause Christmas is coming And we won’t see each other again He says he can’t drink it alone So we don’t One o’clock turns into nine Every bottle I own stands at attention Like they knew something we didn’t Chorus So line ’em up boys, brown bottles tall Flannel on our backs, we gave it our all From one long Sunday we built it true In the concrete cathedral, we sit it through Verse 2 Next year we do it again That’s how traditions get born No invitations, just word of mouth and weather Matt shows up Then his wife Then the silence where Mike used to stand Funny how pride leaves before the whiskey does So the door opens wider Men from the prison Men from the fire Men who know when to talk And when to let the bottle do it Rules get written without ink Bring something rare Wear flannel Stay in the garage And don’t leave early Chorus So line ’em up boys, shoulder to shoulder Laugh lines deeper, the years a little colder No sermons preached, no sins absolved In the concrete cathedral, we’re all involved Verse 3 There’s chili on low Cigars burning like slow punctuation Bitters on standby in case somebody remembers too much The garage stays closed The world stays out Some stand Some lean Some just listen Nobody fixes anything But somehow, it all feels lighter Chorus So line ’em up boys, if you came you stayed This is where the working men learned how to pray Not to God, not to time, not to youth But to showing up honest And sitting with truth Outro Every year I clean that garage like church Not because I have to But because some places earn it This ain’t about whiskey It’s about who stayed This ain’t about whiskey It’s about who stayed
