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(Taylor) (Dedicated to Johnathan Harris, boy racer to the end) The machine of a dream, such a clean machine, With the pistons a pumpin`, and the hubcaps all gleam. When I`m holding your wheel, All I hear is your gear, When my hand`s on your grease gun, Oh it`s like a disease son, I`m in love with my car, gotta feel for my automobile, Get a grip on my boy racer rollbar, Such a thrill when your radials squeal. Told my girl I just had to forget her, Rather buy me a new cartburettor, So she made tracks sayin` ths is the end now, Cars don`t talk back they`re just four wheeled friends now, When I`m holding your wheel, All I hear is your gear, When I`m cruisin` in overdrive, Don`t have to listen to no run of the mill talk jive, I`m in love with my car, gotta feel for my automobile, I`m in love with my car, string back gloves in my automolove! (Vocal - Roger Taylor) |