Let me tell you a story of an old greasy spoon
A honky tonk dive bar, a roadhouse saloon.
Once a boogie 'til you puke joint forty years ago
Now a rundown motel tables bolted to the floor
There's a boombox on the jukebox both with out of service signs
As if they'd both once worked but they've served their time
A sign on the wall read 'fight once barred for life'
It was busted down the middle from a rowdier night
The only fried chicken left is necks and a gizzard
The waitress is workin' double duty an ol' lot lizard
I'd never seen gravy so thin in my life
Coffee so thick you could cut it with a knife
Conversations are scarce if you'd call 'em that.
Grunts between gulps and chewin' the fat
Beer soaked funny pages hung on the ice chest
Like they once had a sense of humor but that's all that's left
Tip jar is empty except a cigarette and a dime
There's an old blue tick hound just watchin' the flies
The jar of pickled eggs has seen better days.
Only one egg left discoloured and misshaped
All the smokers round the ashtray like moths to a flame.
I really oughtta quit, one of 'em proclaims
The cook and dishwasher are having a smoke of their own
Finest grass in the county, hydroponically grown
There's a shower round back, coin operated
It's a just like home only more dilapidated
'Diner and lounge' the neon sign once displayed
Now it reads 'die alone' as clear as day