| Lyrics: | 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 hands 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 radias
squeal.
Told my girl I just had to forget her,
Rather buy me a new carburettor,
So
she made tracks sayin' this is the end now,
Cars don't talk back they're just four wheeled
friends now,
When I'm holding your wheel,
All I hear is your gear,
When I'm
cruisin' in overdrive,
Don't have to listen to no run of the mill talk jive,
I'm in
love with my car, gotta feel for my automobile,
I'm in love with my car, string back gloves in
my automobile! |
