The machine of a dream, such a clean machine,
With the pistons a pumpin`, and the hubcaps all gleam.
When I`m holding your wheel,
All I hear is your gear,
When my hand`s on your grease gun,
Oh it`s like a disease son,
I`m in love with my car, gotta feel for my automobile,
Get a grip on my boy racer rollbar,
Such a thrill when your radials squeal.
Told my girl I just had to forget her,
Rather buy me a new cartburettor,
So she made tracks sayin` ths is the end now,
Cars don`t talk back they`re just four wheeled friends now
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