Eggs And Grits With Nebraska Rolling By

Breakfast at Denny's with three numb toes, and
that kid behind the counter's so worried about his share
of the tips that he's blind to all the toast, bacon, pancakes
and Moon Over My Hammies backing up
in the cook's window there...

But it's not lost on me. I tense up, almost choke on some ham...

They've got one Brazilian in there cooking alone
she's holding her own against the rush pretty good
muttering curses in Portuguesa to maintain that head of steam,
I'm pretty sure love's not making it into the eggs this morning...

I feel for her a little, but she's the one guilty of these sad and watery grits...

None are deserving this morning
or we all deserve it,
depends on whether you're taken up
by the meanness in the world
or not...