Too Much Fucking Overhead

Too Much Fucking Overhead lyrics

Official lyrics for “Too Much Fucking Overhead” by Festival Guy.

“Too Much Fucking Overhead” Old-time country / western swing style — smoky 1930s roadside juke joint vibe Artist: “Festival Guy”

[Intro – Spoken over upright bass & fiddle] Well now… If you’re wonderin’ why the stew got thin And the beer got warm… Take a look upstairs, boys.

[Verse 1] Down on Highway 9 where the freight trains moan Sat a little hash house barely holdin’ on Coffee tasted burnt, catfish tasted strange But the girls upstairs kept the lights from gettin’ changed

Landlord wore suspenders, chewed cigars all day Said “Business is survivin’ in a complicated way” Kitchen boys were sweatin’, waitress lost her head Every nickel that we made got carried upstairs instead

[Hook / Chorus] Too much fuckin’ overhead Too many red lamps burnin’ over my head Biscuits gettin’ smaller while the gin gets poured Cook can’t buy onions but they’re polishin’ the floorboards

Too much fuckin’ overhead That’s what the old man said Restaurant downstairs, whorehouse above Can’t make a profit sellin’ coffee and love

[Verse 2] Piano man was drunk by a quarter after two Playin’ “Blue Eyes Cryin’” while the sailors stumbled through Mama worked the register, sister worked the hall Grandma stirred the gravy like she didn’t know at all

Sheriff came on Fridays for his chicken-fried steak Left with lipstick on him and a twenty-dollar break Preacher said “Repent!” while he winked at room sixteen Lord, hypocrisy was cleaner than the kitchen ever seen

[Hook / Chorus] Too much fuckin’ overhead Too many silk stockings hangin’ by a thread Rent due Monday, whiskey due tonight Everybody workin’ but the books still ain’t right

Too much fuckin’ overhead That’s what the old man said You can fry up catfish, pour bourbon neat But sin pays better than a daily lunch meat

[Bridge – slow fiddle breakdown] Now the war came through and the boys went west Town dried up like sweat on a Sunday vest But if you drive there now when the moon glows red You can still hear somebody cussin’ overhead…

[Final Chorus] Too much fuckin’ overhead Echoes through the rafters like the dearly dead Neon buzz hummin’, screen door slam Lord, that old café barely gave a damn

Too much fuckin’ overhead That’s what the old man said Restaurant downstairs, hard times above Just another southern business built on booze and love

[Outro – spoken] “Coffee’s nickel extra, sweetheart… And don’t look upstairs.”