Практика: '68 Fastback

Take my soul, take my heart, tear me apart

If I'm good for anything, it's all of this suffering

So use me for parts

To you, I'm just salvage

I ain't ran right in years

So drive me, then gut me

Deceive and fuck me, then disappear

Take all my jokes, and tell them to them

And act like you're someone

That could be someone worth loving

And steal all the good parts you found in me

Yeah, you'll sell 'em quick, yeah, you'll sell 'em cheap

Hey, you'll give 'em for free

But I cleaned all my pistons

I'm running on '91

And I'm piecing myself, back off the shelf

One by one

And now I've got a driver who chooses the high road

They don't use me for scraps

Or throw my ass back when I hit potholes

And I'm flying down freeways, going 117

And a '68 Fastback looks like a hatchback racing me

I believe, you cannot tear down

What's built up strong now, thankfully

Oh, I believe that you cannot tear down

What's built up strong now, thankfully

And I'm flying down freeways, going 117

And a '68 Fastback looks like a hatchback next to me