Sour Lemon

a set of old tires, bald as a turtle's head; the engine won't start, 'cause the battery's dead! sank my last dollar, on this piece of ol' junk; all it does is rattle, and go "clunkety-clunk!" a funky lil' dealer, in high water pants; sold me a lemon, and did a happy dance! mix-matched panels, from front to side; where are the seat belts? it's almost suicide! ain't no way in hades, i'm having a thrill; this clunker dies out, when i drive up a hill! the seats are tattered, i'm feelin' paranoid; every time i hit a bump, i'm pushin' hemorrhoids! when i'm doin' sixty, i'm really goin' ten; i think i'll need a priest, this car's a wicked sin! when it comes to braking, i'm guaranteed to lose; it's another day at Pay Less, to replace my worn out shoes! this car's got more dents, than an 18th century bed; when i cruise the neighborhood, i hide my shallow head! i pulled up to a corner, next to a homeless dude; who held a cardboard sign which read, I'LL GLADLY WORK FOR FOOD he reached into his pockets, pulled out a load of change; "take your car to the vet!" he pled, "i think it's got the mange!" such a funky lemon, for now it'll have to do; beware of the "no credit" dealer, he'll sink his fangs in you!