I'm the only one who ever sits here
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So thank God for me
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You're the lonley one with the waffle house apron
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Who gets of on me
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You're the apron string that's tied so tight
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Around my middle
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Truckers, drunks and cowboys come to beg for seconds
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from your griddle
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How can they think to judge us
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They don't even know who we are
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In the future i see us running
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Somewhere other than a parked car
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Three o'clock there's only empty seats and orthapedic shoes
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Sit down in my booth and tell me about country dancing
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and what else you like to do
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You're the only one in this town who can look down on me
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No matte rhow you feel all you done and where you been
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Come and sit down with me
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Waffle House Is Not a Home
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The Gadjits |