Lord, Mr. Ford

(альбом: Lord Mr. Ford - 1973)

Well if you're one of the millions who own one of them
Gas drinking piston clinking air polluting smoke belching
Four wheeled buggies from Detroit City then pay attention
I'm about to sing your song son

Well now I'm not a man to point or judge
To bear ill-will or hold a grudge
But I think it's time I said me a few choice words
All about that demon the automobile
The metal monster with the polyglass wheels
The end result of a dream of Henry Ford
Well now I've got a car that's mine alone
That me and the finance company own
A ready made pile of manufactured grief
And if I ain't out of gas in the pouring rain
I'm changing a flat in a hurricane
I once spent three days lost on a cloverleaf

Well it ain't just the smoke in a traffic jam
That makes me the bitter fool I am
But that four-wheeled buggy is dollaring me to death
For gas and oil and fluids and grease
And wires and tires and antifreeze
And then them accessories well honey that's something else
Well you can get stereo tape and a color TV
Get a backseat bar and reclining seats
And just pay once a month like you do your rent
Well I figured it up and over a period of time
This four thousand dollar car of mine
Cost fourteen thousand dollars and ninety-nine cents

Well now Lord Mr Ford I just wish that you could see
What your simple horseless carriage has become
Well it seems your contribution to man
To say the least got a little out of hand
Well Lord Mr Ford what have you done

Now the average American father and mother
Own one whole car and half another
And I'll bet that half a car is a trick to drive don't you
But the thing that amazes me I guess
Is the way we measure a man's success
By the kind of an automobile he can afford to buy
Well now it's red light green light traffic cop
Right turn no turn must turn stop
Get out the credit card honey we're out of gas
Well now all the cars placed end to end
Would reach to the moon and back again
And there'd probably be some poor fool pull out to pass
Well now how I yearn for the good ol' days
Without that carbon dioxide haze
A hanging over the roar on the interstate
Well if the Lord that made the moon and stars
Would've meant for me and you to have cars
He'd've seen that we was born with a parking space

Lord Mr Ford I just wish that you could see
What your simple horseless carriage has become
Well it seems your contribution to man
To say the least got a little out of hand
Well Lord Mr Ford what have you done
Come away with me Lucille
In my smoking choking automobile