Clunk Land
Can I trade this old Clunker in for a new?
She’s put together with wire and glue.
I fly off my wheels, when I break now and then.
I move very slow and my head lights are dim.
The body’s all crumpled, broken and bruised
The heart and the miles have been terribly used.
Take me to “Clunk land.” Paint me a figure.
Show me a sample that’ll trip my trigger.
I want to stand out among all the rest,
I want to be envied and feel like the best.
May I trade this old Clunker, this body of mine,
Into a lovely Mercedes? “Where do I sign?”
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