Lyrics:

For a pork chop and a malt
For a cheese dog and a can of orange crush
For a host of smiling faces
For a smoking swollen waitress you can trust
Where kids burp out their orders
And they armpit-fart for quarters
And parents curse them underneath their breaths
A place where corn fed cattle meet their deaths

Where you take what you can get
Where you close your eyes, you pinch your nose and pray
Where the meat on plastic dishes
Looks as sav'ry and nutritious as the tray
A time for I-love-you-ing
And give thanks for what you're chewing
We never place an order for ourselves
The waitress serves up something for our health

At the restaurant, The Family Restaurant
Home is never really very far
You find yourself among the salad bar
At the restaurant, The Family Restaurant
A chance to understand your history
Where Beef is King, Mom's Queen, And Kids Go Free

While the muzak sets the mood
Mother sings along with Mitch or Mancini
While the waitress draws on eyebrows
In the places where she thinks they used to be
Where the subtlety's not tasted
And a lot of words are wasted
And the waitress let her hairdo go to far
While the dog is quickly cooking in the car

At the restaurant, The Family Restaurant
People say exactly what they mean
Living in a sunset magazine
At the restaurant, the Family Restaurant
A place that uses Mother's recipe
Where Beef is King, Mom's Queen, And Kids Go Free