From kitchen radios to midnight phones,

you tap that beat in your living rooms.

A little song leaves my dusty street,

you send it back with dancing feet.

Every “play” is a porchlight bright—

you keep my small town lit at night.

To the quiet listeners and the loud “oh yeah!”—

you’re the reason this old heart dares.

Jukebox choir, you lift me higher,

thumbs and hearts, you feed the fire.

Every clap, every late-night line,

turns my spark to a marquee sign.

Jukebox choir, stay right there—

we shake the room, we shake the air.

I sing the truth, loud and clear:

thank you, thank you for being here.

You caught the notes I almost dropped,

you wrote me words that never stopped.

From first play through a thousand spins,

you made the neon learn to grin.

If I’ve got twang, you’ve got the road—

together we make thunder roll.

Hit that beat, let the needle ride—

you’re the echo on my side.

Jukebox choir, you lift me higher,

thumbs and hearts, you feed the fire.

Every clap, every late-night line,

turns my spark to a marquee sign.

Jukebox choir, stay right there—

we shake the room, we shake the air.

I sing the truth, loud and clear:

thank you, thank you for being here.

If I fall off time, you snap me back,

hand to hand on the railroad track.

Raise your glasses, stomp that floor—

with you I always want one more.

Jukebox choir, you lift me higher,

thumbs and hearts, you feed the fire.

Every clap, every late-night line,

turns my spark to a marquee sign.

Jukebox choir, don’t disappear,

keep that rhythm in my ear—

I sing the truth, loud and clear:

thank you, thank you for being here.

Lights go low, but the glow remains—

see you next song, same last name. (Hey!)