On a dark stretch of Route 1,
Cool wind in my hair.
Warm smell of a grease fire,
Rising up through the air.

Up ahead in the distance,
I saw that orange-red light.
My wallet empty and my future dim,
I thought I
I'd work for a night.

There she stood at the counter,
And rang the service bell.
I was thinking to myself,
5 bucks an hour will really be hell.

Then, she lit up a fryer,
And she showed me the way.
There were voices on the burger boards,
I thought I heard them say.

Welcome to the Burger King in Groton.
Such a lousy place.
Puts zits on your face.

There's plenty of food at the Burger King in Groton.
Any type of steer.
You can find it here.

My mind was set on those Twisters,
They got that really cool spice.
They got that really, cooky, kinky, style,
I think is nice.

Some guy works on the broiler,
Dripping in sweat.
Some see him and remember,
Most want to forget.

Someone came to the counter, and said,
I found this in my tea. I said,
No one's worked here with that color hair,
Since 1963.

And the drive-thru beeper is sounding
From far away.
Answer it in the middle of a rush,
Just so you can say.

Welcome to the Burger King in Groton.
Try a Value Meal.
They're a really great deal.

We're living it up at the Burger King in Groton.
What a nice surprise.
Onion rings in your fries.

Ketchup on the ceiling,
Mayonaise on ice, and she said,
We are all just prisoners here,
Of our own device.

But, at the drive-thru window,
They gather for the feast.
They try to use their plastic knives,
But they just can't cut the meat.

Next thing I remember,
I was running for the door.
I had to a passage back,
To the place I'd worked before.

Relax, said the porter,
We are programmed to receive.
You can clock out anytime you like,
But, you can never leave.