Tin Boxes

Just feel that combustion engine
Dragging you from a to b
Feeling like you’re something different
Thinking that you’re someone free
Burning up the planet’s oil
Just to sit in traffic jams
Fork out on a petrol guzzler
Just to play the big “I am”

Tin boxes, tin boxes
A home from home your comfort zone
Tin boxes tin boxes
Entrapment by design
Tin boxes tin boxes
Great for Napoleon syndrome
Tin boxes tin boxes
See how fast you can drive

Who killed our communication?
Who killed the pedestrian?
Filled with road rage and obsession
Life becomes more ignorant
Every single conversation
Now revolves around the car
Losing sense of destination
Losing sense of who you are

And you don’t really care if you’re going nowhere
Just as long as you see that the people stare
At the smooth perfected fuel injected
Beastly machine that growls like a bear
Does it look pretty sexy on a crowded road?
When you’re stuck behind a sign that says “wide load”?
Does it make you shout does it make you swear?
When you realise you’re not moving anywhere?

Nought to sixty, seven seconds
With three hundred BHP
Heated windscreen, heated airbags
Central locking, MP3
Leather seats and leather ashtrays
Sat Nav with a sexy voice
Cooling glove box, folding mirrors
Added extras so much choice
All hand-crafted with precision
Makes you feel the bigger man
Top class German engineering
Top class English arrogance
Just feel that combustion engine
Dragging you from a to b
Feeling like you’re something different
Thinking that you’re someone free

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