With no trace and no control,
As the asphalt burns their tyres,
From the nightmare urban sprawl,
Cars leave town like they’re on fire.

Both unwieldy ones, like tanks,
The Fords, Selenes and then the Lincolns,
And the finer ones, the Mustangs,
The Mercedes and the Citroens.

It’s like they know the game’s not in vain;
It’ll be like wreaking bloody revenge on the towns;
Faster - just don’t set the spark plugs aflame,
Carburettors, or whatever they have around.

Now the way is hard to spot;
There’s a swarm of limousines there,
And among them like two dots
Two lovely cars can just be seen there,

Linked as if they had a tow rope -
It can snap where it’s worn thinnest;
Their gas pedals and their chokes won’t
Have a race left they can finish.

It’s like they know the game’s not in vain;
They can pay off everything with one leap or one bound;
Or has he words for her he’ll declaim
On his klaxon, or whatever they have around?

All the cars that fill this scene
Nurse a secret grudge against you;
Keep her, light-grey limousine,
In your sights whatever you do!

There in front! Watch out! A fork!
Cut it finer! Show some gumption!
You won’t make it... There, you baulked!
Yes, you wavered, you light-grey one!

Both the cars knew the game’s not in vain;
But why hoot at advertising hoardings right now?
Or does he feel a burden’s slipped away
From his bonnet, or whatever they have around?

No, the fork brought tragedy -
Arrows split, you’re gone forever.
Does it always have to be
Exits can’t bring us together?

This car’s getting very near -
Can the light-grey limo race on?
Crashing into seventh gear
He forgot to put the brake on.

Is uniting just an empty dream?
Or maybe this is their bloody revenge on the towns?
Their suspensions lie with spun-away wheels
And their hearts too, or whatever they have around.