God made the automobile to pa** all the pretty girls
That smoke by the side of the road, their blues loving boys in tow
To drive until the end of the day and bow to a borrowed flag
Beside all the brave and the blind, and men without men in mind
To pa** all the things he made
But then never bothered to name
And no one will tell the truth
And no one will hide it from you
Like birds around the grave
God made the automobile and I made a little boy
To pa** all the blissfully young, the snake with a forked tongue
That preys on the wanting for time and makes in the sleepless waves
The fear of the black and the Jew and blood for the camera crew
To pa** all the things he made
But then never bothered to name
And no one will tell the truth
And no one will hide it from you
Like birds around the grave