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She weren't much to look at, she weren't much to ride |
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She was missing a window on her passenger side |
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The floorboard was patched up with paper and tar |
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But I really was something in my old yellow car |
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An American boy with his hands on the wheel |
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Of a dream that was made of American steel |
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Though the seats had the smell of a nickel cigar |
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I really was something in my old yellow car |
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Somewhere in a pile of rubber and steel |
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There's a rusty old shell of an automobile |
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And if engines could run on desires alone |
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That old yellow car would be driving me home |
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There's the seat where poor Billy threw up on his date |
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And where Larry and Sandy could no longer wait |
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There was no road too winding and nowhere too far |
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With two bucks of gas and my old yellow car |
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Somewhere in a pile of rubber and steel |
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Thee's a rusty old shell of an automobile |
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And if engines could run on desires alone |
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That old yellow car would be driving me home |
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Take a look at me now throwing money around |
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I'm paying somebody to drive me downtown |
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Got a Mercedes Benz with a TV and bar |
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And God I wish I was driving my old yellow car |
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God I wish I was driving my old yellow car |
