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    (or, suv protest song #3)

    Oh, out into the races
    Oh, out into the cold
    Where the cars look like bad belly dancers
    They try to get a hold of me

    But i move to the side
    Back and forth between i glide
    Using moves they've never seen
    In my metal death machine

    Relaxing later in my seat
    Warming myself with the heat
    I remember previous mistakes
    I become the thing i hate

    I got time to waste
    I got my own blue place
    You can keep your flutes and snakes
    More metal saves

    Protect protect myself
    A suit of armor for my health
    A nut in a nutshell of metal
    Everyone else is expendable i guess
    They are buried in my pedals

    Now i'm moving to the side
    Back and forth between i glide
    Using moves they've never seen
    I drive my metal death machine

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