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,