Fast Food Blues

The streets are lined with golden arches, Plastic smacking lips and smiling chef faces, Hamburgers competing with pizzas, Who are competing with Oriental take-outs, Who are competing with Italian subs, Who are competing with the world's longest dogs. Oh Lordy, I'm singing the fast food blues. Man, I have the shakes so bad, My stomach is growling from hunger pangs, The lines are long at Hamburger Haven, No parking available at Zippy Zotto's Pizzas, East Meets West doesn't open till 4:00 P.M., and Doxies is closed until further notice. Oh Lordy, I'm singing the fast food blues. The car is heading a different direction To the other side of town, My eyes are darting----giving me a wild-woman look, Searching for that special place to fill my appetite, I think of Mom's cooking circa pre-microwave, Chicken with dumplings and cakes from scratch. Oh, Lordy, I'm singing the fast food blues. Time is wasting and my hunger is wanting, Anything will do even a Bologna sandwich, Piled high with lettuce, oozing with mustard, Between processed cheese and rye bread, A hotdog-on-a-stick will fill in a pinch With a side of fries drowning in Ketchup. Oh Lordy, I'm singing the fast food blues. Driving along the interstate signs are larger, I see a truck stop along the way, Big Harry's for Big Appetites, Home Cooking, My weak knees are knocking as I stumble through The double-glass doors in time to see, "Please wait to be seated----microwave oven in use." Oh Lordy, I'm singing the fast food blues.