Intro: with some frills Verse 1: Ohhhhh... The machine of a dream. Such a clean machine. When 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. Chrous: I'm in love with my car. Gotta feel for my automobile. Geat a grip on my boy racer roller bar, Such a thril when your radials squeel. Verse 2: Told my girl I'll have to forget her, Rather buy me a new carburetor, So she made tracks saying this is the end now, Cars don't talk back, they're just four wheeled friends now. When I'm holding you wheel, All I hear is your gear, When I'm crusing in overdrive, Don't have to listen to no run of the mill talk jive. Chrous: 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. (Fade Out)