Ohhhhh The machine of a dream.
Such a clean machine. When 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.
Geat a grip on my boy racer roller bar, Such a thril when your radials squeel.
Told my girl I'll have to forget her, Rather buy me a new carburetor,
So she made tracks saying this is the end now, Cars don't talk back,
they're just four wheeled friends now.
When I'm holding you wheel, All I hear is your gear,
When I'm crusing in overdrive, Don't have to listen to no run of the mill talk jive.
I'm in love with my car. String back gloves in my au