Poetry

I stand outside all night cos you wont put me away
My silver body work is a grim kind of grey
You drive me miles and miles every single day
It’s not much fun being your car

You rev too much, burning oil every mile
Keeping on going really is a trial
All I ask is a service once in a while
It’s not much fun being your car

You haven’t cleaned me inside or out for years
When you’re in a hurry you start to grind my gears
If I whine up goes your music so you’re not one who hears
It’s not much fun being your car

You have me roaring down the motorway again
Through the wind and grit and dirt and fumes and rain
Being used so carelessly really is a pain
It’s not much fun being your car

But one day on the road my engine will just die
And you’ll have to wait out in the rain til help comes by
And when the mechanic starts me I will work first try
I can have some fun being your car