I want the kind of car they had in the 1960s
Or maybe even the 50s
Something like an E-type
You could dress like Steve McQueen in a car like that
And feel as if you were in the Thomas Crown Affair
And the girl in the seat beside you
She might turn out to be Faye Dunaway
Underneath her headscarf and her sungla**es
And you could pull the roof off, and drive a car like that
All the way down to the south of France
Down to Nice and Cannes
And you could drive too fast until the police started chasing you;
Chasing you through an old town square
And up onto the pavements;
Past all the people sitting outside the cafes
And round and round the fountain;
Through an old market crashing into the fish stalls and the stands of fruit
'Til you finally shook them off and escaped
And in a car like that, when you got to Antibes
You could drive about on the sand, spraying up the waves
And you could forget all about what year it really was
And all about the place you had come from
I want the kind of car they had in the 50s and the 60s
A Porsche 356, or a 190SL
A 1600 Spider or a Citreon DS
Or a pale blue E-type