Driving down the highways
The squirrels chance the wheels;
Like a sinner saying, "My way,"
They stop the car and squeal.
But remember, my son,
One day the cars will run
And the tire will lay you
Spreadeagle on your back.
Driving down the highways
The squirrels chance the wheels;
Like a sinner saying, "My way,"
They stop the car and squeal.
But remember, my son,
One day the cars will run
And the tire will lay you
Spreadeagle on your back.