a true story
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We stopped there every couple days for maybe a loaf of bread
or maybe a local paper on the way back home at night
Your normal-type convenience store, it was white and trimmed with red
For 5 years living in that town, we'd stop to get a bite
The cashiers, they would come and go, but one thing never changed
the bearded man who hung around inside the store and out
We'd pass by in the wee wee hours, like clockwork, it was strange
cause Roy would always be nearby, there wasn't any doubt
It got to be a long term joke, when we were driving past
We'd see his cycle or his jeep and wonder about the guy
I swore that if we ever moved, the day before I'd ask
Roy practically lived at that little store, I had to find out why
"My friends all come to see me here"
That's what he had to say
"My friends all come to see me here
They come here every day"
My wife and I didn't know him well but we know where to find him
He'll be there sipping coffee probably talkin' to the guy beside him
My wife told me not to ask him 'cause she thought it would be rude
I told her I had to do it, in his answer there's a song
not quite what I expected but in Roy's case, oh, so true
I put the tale to paper, and the tune soon came along
"My friends all come to see me here"
That's what he had to say
"My friends all come to see me here
They come here every day"
I knew that it was wrong to ask, but as I left, he smiled
It was the most I talked to him in at least a good long while
The people came from near and far to buy their cigarettes
to play the lucky lottery or buy a six of Coke
It seems a friend to Roy, I guess, is anyone he met
a lifetime buddy, anyone with whom he had a smoke
"My friends all come to see me here"
That's what he had to say
"My friends all come to see me here
They come here every day"
I guess I probably qualify, I'm there as much as any
I know his name, and what the hey !
Good friends, I don't have many
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