One table at the greasy spoon
3 plates and the morning news
It’s a pleasure just to eat with you
Come for the talk, stay for the food

(Lucas)
I’d rather take a booth than a set of stools
Don’t wanna wait in any lines hanging out the vestibule
The cheaper the better, ain’t a fine dine foodie
Like my spot with newspaper clips and signed unis
Grab the menu, pretend to puruse through
When the waitress comes around I order the usual
Substitute fries for the hash browns
Elevator vibes in the background
No coffee, no Stumptown mocha
I’ll take my caffeine in a cup of house Cola
I’ll take the tall tales with a dash of pep, grain of salt
Toasted, over-medium, and covered in a gravy sauce

(Efftupp)
Anytime you get offered an ultimatum
Go with the side that just offered you eggs and bacon
Need a break from the politics we've been debatin
50 years later, still cling to Ronald Reagan
Who needs a vitamin? I got my chaser!
Did y'all see the score from the Cedar Rapids Pacers?
They got that new kid, throwing a damn doozy
Got a slick shot that makes Curry look like Bob Cousy

(Blake Ambrose)
Of course I still get brews with Dru,
But it is a lot rarer we both shoot the shit over breakfast with Luc.
We all just paddled in from the coast. A butter knife hits the floor as I reach for some toast.
The whole table's got fists cocked for the choad, who says it's Gavin's ghost
I just finished my hashbrowns at Maggie's Haberdashery
Frying bacon like, you won't get my stash from me.
If you don't hear back from me, assume my sausage chomper atrophied
Or my whole plan for a mid life crisis ended in catastrophe.

(Efftupp)
I carve satanic mickey mouse into my pancakes
Make his penis from my sausage and scrambled eggs
Blake and Luc steady giving me the gas face
But I don't give a damn cause I'm a hoot at this grand age
And I’ma scoot when I'm done to grab my lady
Ride slow, drive the young people crazy
Hard butterscotch candies to the face maybe
I’ma be a dirty old bastard til the grass shades me

(Blake Ambrose)
We've exhausted the small talk and are discussing our vibrance
Decoding the roars of these silver maned lions
We can't believe Dru still has eye sight to pilot
Lucas laughing gets ready to chime in
All of a sudden the next booth erupts in violence
“Gimme the truth or it's your eyelids”
We say know John Wilkes and the rest in silence
Three subtle winks that mean death to tyrants

(Lucas)
Nothing left on the plate but parsley and orange peels
My tummy grumbles, my heart beats the warm feels
Condiment convos, waxing whatever
The future’s unknown and the past lives forever
This one’s on me, I got it, check please
All right, my friends, same time, next week