In a fix on route 66
I drove my 50's Chevrolet down route 66
The place has atmosphere, a kind of retro mix
Classic diners, neon signs, and towns that time passed by.
Then I put Meta glasses on, powered by A.I.
The place transformed and the old became like new
Rusted chrome turned shiny, it felt like 1962.
All the men wore hats, grim faces became merry
And the music in my ears was Maybelline by Chuck Berry.
I took off the A.I. glasses, I needed to focus on the wheel:
The painted desert started, it was pretty, it was real.
Then a Harley rode by my side, Hell's Angel on the seat
I looked behind and saw a motorcycle fleet.
Then approaching toward us, The Mongols on their bikes
Things were getting hairy, so I pulled off, took a hike.
Guns started blazing, I was in a fix
All wasn't love and roses on route 66.
I hid behind a Pinyon Pine, then had an idea to try.
Put on those Meta glasses, powered by A.I.
I looked back at the carnage, and saw Custer's last stand
Threw away the glasses, the Mongols were in command.
So now I'm back in Trenton, I've reordered glasses there
Our local shootouts would give even Custer a scare
At least with Meta glasses, history can reappear
to the mundane and old, it gives a gloss veneer.
Hold on, Washington just crossed the Delaware
He's charging at the Hessians, bullets in the air
I'm afraid to remove the glasses, afraid of what I might see
Maybe my existence is now history.
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