Omaha Blues & Big Pain

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To the Omaha Steaks store came a Dylan one fine day, Looked like death had found him, but he clocked in anyway. No one dared to ask him why his face was turning white, For the Tito’s from the evening had survived into daylight. Survived into daylight… Now the freezer fans were howlin’, and the lights were far too bright, Every beep upon the register was causing Dylan fright. There was pounding in his forehead, there was fire behind his eyes, And the smell of bacon-wrapped filets near made the poor man die. Near made the poor man die… He was alone that evening, so he had to play it cool, But his stomach was performing like a bucking rodeo mule. When a customer asked, “Sir, what steak would you recommend?” Dylan stared into the distance like he’d seen his final end. Seen his final end… There was Big Pain in his forehead, Big Pain in his forehead… Then somebody dropped a box down and the crash rang through the store, Dylan whispered, “Jesus Christ, man, I can’t take this anymore.” He grabbed himself some water, took a slow and careful drink, Then he leaned against the freezer ’cause he thought he might just sink. Thought he might just sink… By eleven he was sweatin’, by twelve he’d lost his soul, By one he’d made a promise he would practice self-control. “No more drinking before workdays,” Dylan solemnly declared, Then somebody mentioned tequila— And he quietly just stared. Quietly just stared… There was Big Pain in his forehead, Big Pain in his forehead… Now the legend still is spoken where the steaks are packed in rows, Of the manager named Dylan and the suffering he knows. He survived the shift at Omaha, though barely, so they say, With a Gatorade beside him and regret from yesterday. And the customers kept shopping, never knowing of his plight, While Dylan fought the longest damn five-hour shift of his life. Big Pain in his forehead… Big Pain in his forehead…