words: L. Thomas
And I remember “the Coffee Shack”
On 5th Avenue and 18th Street in Brooklyn
We used to live on 23rd, I’d go there
3 or 4 times a week with Dave and Mike
Steve and Maria, they were the proprietors of the place
$1.85 for 2 eggs, toast, coffee, hash browns,
and a shot of juice, if you got there early
then it went up 40 cents to $2.25
Maria, she always looked so sad
Except after they got back from their 2-month Greek vacations
And Steve, in between making those pancakes and that fresh egg salad
He’d pick up his bouzouki and sing:
LA, DAT DA DAT, LA DAT DA DAT
LA DAT DAT, DA DAT, LA DA DAT DA DAT
And these past few years come crashing down,
I think I got more lost trying to be found
Now we find ourselves in this diner in Oregon
We sit down and I’m so excited
I look at you, and we’re in love
And I look at you but you don’t look like Dave or Mike
And this waitress, maybe she is depressed, but she’s no Maria
And these pancakes taste like rubber and they’re overpriced
And I keep looking around for Steve,
I keep looking around for Steve
I can hear him pick up his bouzouki and I can hear him sing:
LA, DAT DA DAT, LA DAT DA DAT
LA DAT DAT, DA DAT, LA DA DAT DA DAT
I grew up in mobtown
And dreamed of the big apple
But once I got there
I dreamed of heading out west
And I guess they’re some nice things
Out here in Stumptown
And I guess I’m glad
That I dragged you along
But I miss those eggs
I miss that neon
I miss Steve
And miserable Maria
But I complained then
Like I complain now
Like I’ll complain
Nailed to a cross
I miss those eggs
I miss that neon
I miss Steve
And miserable Maria