| I know it’s a bad car
|
| I know it’s a piece of junk
|
| I know the best tire on it
|
| Is in the trunk
|
| Just when you start to pass
|
| It always starts to shake
|
| Cause over 55 it’s a bitch to drive
|
| On the interstate
|
| It’s broke down more than it runs
|
| But I’m broke down knowing that it’s done
|
| It witnessed all those tears nobody ever saw me cry
|
| When I broke the law through Arkansas to tell my dad goodbye
|
| It didn’t get there pretty, but it got me there that day
|
| So it’s a little hard to see it roll away
|
| I know it’s a bad car
|
| I know that the windshield’s cracked
|
| And when it isn’t leaking oil
|
| It’s leaking gas
|
| It always needs a jump
|
| It always needs Freon
|
| Yea there’s death and taxes
|
| And the check engine light is coming on
|
| It heard the first bad word my first born ever said
|
| Runnin late, when I hit breaks at a yellow turning red
|
| There’s still Kool-Aid on the console that reminds me of that day
|
| So I’m a little sad to see it roll away, roll away
|
| It knows more of my secrets than I’ll ever tell
|
| So to keep from crying
|
| As they tow it away I tell myself
|
| I know it’s a bad car
|
| I know it’s a piece of junk
|
| I know the best tire on it
|
| Is in the trunk |