| Stamp on the brakes
|
| You never could drive this car before
|
| You turned too late
|
| And we both flew over the hood
|
| The central reservation
|
| Never seems to get fully booked
|
| In my annihilation
|
| I missed the final words out of your mouth
|
| The sound of the propellers drowned you out
|
| We’ll meet again
|
| Where motorways are made out of cotton wool
|
| My love got sent
|
| To your family in Liverpool
|
| What a beautiful service you had
|
| The orchids and the jars of sweets
|
| My girlfriend spoke to your dad
|
| Said I would answer any questions that he might have
|
| We listened to Kraftwerk before the crash
|
| Motorphobia is setting in
|
| And it crushes like that tin can
|
| Where to stop, how to begin
|
| As it eats through all our future plans
|
| Motorphobia is setting in
|
| And it crushes like that tin can
|
| Stamp on the brakes
|
| You never could drive this car before
|
| You turned too late
|
| And we both flew over the hood
|
| Between where I end and you begin
|
| Something unwelcome is moving in
|
| Between where I end and you begin
|
| Something unwelcome is moving in
|
| The Jehovah’s Witness at your front door
|
| The horde of mice under your floorboards
|
| Something unwelcome is moving in
|
| Something unwelcome is moving in
|
| Motorphobia, that’s what it is
|
| And it crushes like that tin can
|
| Where to start, how to begin
|
| As it eats through all our future plans
|
| Motorphobia is setting in
|
| And it crushes like that tin can
|
| Motorphobia is setting in |