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Big Mouth

Oh, if only the Big Mouth would go on.

I give it gas and gear it all day long

To drive the broken old bastard to where it belongs.

Oh, come on Big Mouth, you roll on.

I work the clutch like a diphthong switch,

Pressing hard every time I got an itch

And shift those gears without an itch.

I work that clutch like a well-worn bitch.

I whine Big Mouth up to its highest gear.

Then no more whining will I hear,

The wind whipping by, the sky clear.

I whine Big Mouth up to its highest gear.

Only a little more left on this rutted road.

Big Mouth strains under its stolen load.

Big Mouth acts as though its dark future is foretold.

I slam my foot on Big Mouth and drive bold.

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