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I was washing antique cars, working part-time for my dad after-school,
when I got the go-ahead to pick a car and spin around the neighborhood.
It was a baby blue '52 Roadstar
(it was a beautiful car).
That was the night I heard of the fighting
and the murder of the schoolmaster's son
(last year I asked him who he was afraid of and he answered "everyone")...
but did I even flinch a wrist? (should I have tried to undo what had been done ?)
now, that's just the way its gotta be
...I should never have to worry myself none.
It was a baby blue '52 Roadstar (it was a beautiful car)...
