It’s the next light,

Or maybe the one after that,

Even if it is a hundred miles,

Yes, yes, that is where it is at…

Every so often I too, ride my brake,

Hey my life herein is at stake,

If you have a problem with that,

Then stay off the sidewalk,

Where I have come to eat my steak & cake…

Why is my driving so hard for you to understand, yes a chore?

I am only doing like I was told in the manual to avoid any gore,

Don’t tell me to keep my eyes on the road, what store?

No, I didn’t see it, was that the window we just hit and more?

It’s all your fault, yes officer, it’s his fault,

You see I was driving as nice as you please,

Till he started raggin’ on me, oh geez,

So my turn signal was on for the last hundred miles,

And my brake lights are used so often they blow out while,

We are standing here speaking, no officer I cannot imagine,

Oh my goodness yes, isn’t it just so much a sin?

The way these young kids drive, no, no I don’t drink gin,

                        Why do you ask…?              

                        © ed – 4/28/04