Ninety-One Camry

As I’m driving down the street in Brentwood, Nashville’s richest neighborhood, The police pull me over, oh it’s still a common occurrence, I can hear the sirens and the lights flash on in cadence, Oh it’s usually something small, like I didn’t fully stop at a stop sign, Or my registration’s expired just a day or two over the deadline, And really, it’s kind of funny so I’m starting not to mind, But in this rhyme, I’m hoping that maybe just one time, The cops would just be honest and say something like this, “Oh man in the 91 Camry, don’t you realize” “That we have to pull you over, I mean we just can’t help it!” “Your 91 Camry screams to our souls, like the white whale screamed to Ahab” “It stands out and calls to us, like sirens in the night” “And our urge to pull you over we just simply cannot fight” “And so dear man, we’re sorry, but until you can invest” “In a nicer car with brake lights that cause us much less stress” “Then we must, we must, we mean we have to, and we really have no choice” “But to pull you over, maybe search your car, and really really rejoice” “That we kept the gated highways of Brentwood forever free!” “From the ever bleeding eyesore of your 91 Camry!”