if i were a car i have no doubt
i`d be in a junkyard where i`d be scrapped out
`im covered with dings and bumps and rust
and am easily blown over by the slightest of gusts
my head lamps are blurry sometimes i cant see good
lots of strange noises come from neath my hood
my whitewalls are covered with varicose veins
i roar when i sleep like the sound of two trains
i hope someone finds me and restores me like new
but that may be more than even chip foose can do
so i grow even older with each passing day
waiting for the supreme car maker to take me away