(or, SUV protest song #3)
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Oh, out into the races
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Oh, out into the cold
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Where the cars look like bad belly dancers
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They try to get a hold of me
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But I move to the side
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Back and forth between I glide
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Using moves they've never seen
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In my metal death machine
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Relaxing later in my seat
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Warming myself with the heat
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I remember previous mistakes
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I become the thing I hate
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I got time to waste
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I got my own blue place
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You can keep your flutes and snakes
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More metal saves
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Protect protect myself
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A suit of armor for my health
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A nut in a nutshell of metal
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Everyone else is expendable I guess
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They are buried in my pedals
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Now I'm moving to the side
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Back and forth between I glide
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Using moves they've never seen
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I drive my metal death machine
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-----------------
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Out into the Race
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| Ashley Stove |
