My Car
Sometimes I hate this car, it’s a pile of junk.
It steers so bad people think I’m drunk.
Rattles and shakes and smells so bad.
What a deal, I think I’ve been had.
Why does this car act so cruel?
And waste every drop of my fuel?
The paint looks like it has been in a crash.
The interior resembles a pile of trash.
The knock in the motor could wake the dead.
No start on cold mornings is what I dread.
The radio sounds like a nuclear blast.
Twenty four more payments, will this car last?
My car looks better than yours.
Even if It doesn't have all of it's doors.
The muffler is gone, no wonder it’s so loud.
I am used to this car, it makes me proud.
This car makes up who I am.
It is part of being a man.
I can drive where ever I please.
Until I have to give Dad back his keys.
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