Road Rage

Who is that fiend, I asked today, that races down the road, In a hard-cased metal tomb that the Devil kindly sold. He must have heard, despite the growling protest of a wail, For in that instance a defense of smoke erupted from its tail. It blinded me from seeing who believed to have control. Play your lavish games with your flimsy mortal soul, And with a jolt of impact crash, as reality takes its toll.