there’s so much life going on at the diner ‘cross the street   three dozen eggs piled up waiting to be beat   “coffee black…whiskey down…split pea soup--no rocks”   and i know all the lingo ‘cause i go there a lot      i wish i had me a real job like waiting tables   no more vans and travelling bands, i need something stable   i wish i had me a real job at the diner across the street   where i could meet a late night girl who doesn’t eat meat      i get so sick of whiskey swilling chicks at all the clubs   but i take them out after the show all scrambled up   they’re all impressed…think i’m a star…i know the waiters by name   but in my mind i’ve cleaned the plates and pumped a lot of pain      i wish i had me a real job like waiting tables   no more bands and travelling, man, i want something stable   i wish i had me a real job at the diner across the street   maybe i’d meet a late night girl who likes me