(or, suv protest song #3)



Oh, out into the races

Oh, out into the cold

Where the cars look like bad belly dancers

They try to get a hold of me



But i move to the side

Back and forth between i glide

Using moves they've never seen

In my metal death machine



Relaxing later in my seat

Warming myself with the heat

I remember previous mistakes

I become the thing i hate



I got time to waste

I got my own blue place

You can keep your flutes and snakes

More metal saves



Protect protect myself

A suit of armor for my health

A nut in a nutshell of metal

Everyone else is expendable i guess

They are buried in my pedals



Now i'm moving to the side

Back and forth between i glide

Using moves they've never seen

I drive my metal death machine