I want to tell you about this diner.
It's just a little place, kind of out of the way.
You can tell it was a real happening place,
At one time,
Back when the streetcar went by,
Before the old newspaper closed down.
It was a real nice place back then, I bet.
But that's not what I wanted to tell you about.
No, I want to tell you about this diner.
Well, there's this waitress there,
I think she said her name was Doris.
You're probably seen her.
Well, not her, exactly,
Not here, exactly,
But every place has one.
Life didn't turn out the way she thought it would,
When the quarterback or the class president,
Or her senior English teacher,
Dumped her when she got knocked up.
She's always on the phone,
In the back,
Puffing away on a cigarette, talking to,
Someone from the school.
Little Johnny got in a fight,
Or forgot his homework again,
Or has a fever.
Maybe all three.
But that's not what I wanted to tell you about.
I get so sidetracked.
But I want to tell you about this diner.
It's down next to where the old stockyards were.
Well, you probably don't remember those.
Before you lived around here.
If you know what to look for, though,
You can still tell, still see 'em.
Pretty sure they're luxury lofts, now.
I wonder if they ever got the smell out.
But, I'm sorry, I keep getting off track.
I get distracted so easily, you see.
But I wanted to tell you about this diner.
They have the best,
And I mean best,
Blueberry Pie.
You should really try it sometime,
At the old diner, by the old newspaper,
And the old stockyards.
Ask for Doris,
And tell her I sent you.
