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THE KEYS ARE IN YOUR HANDS

My guy is fifty-three
While I am forty-eight
To my sex he has the key
He turns my engine on then has me wait

To drive myself through all his gears
He'll let me go through first, second and third
To fourth and fifth my driving he fears
As I blow my horn in hope he's heard

He must rule me, put me through the paces
Demand I take it easy as my motor races
My brakes are worn metal to metal
My radiator's boiling like a kettle

He drives me with patience
Around a figure eight track
It goes on and on into infinity
So I know he will come back

If he could save this gunner for the long haul
As she's burning tires spinning like a ball
Keep her lubed up take her for a slow ride
Treat her tender let the winning horsepower hide

Then on race day she'll come through
Internal combustion she'll win the race for you
The key you have to start your race car
So put it in and drive it far

Then when the ride is over
Can you understand
With sex and cars alike
You are the driver---so command.


10/11/2004 2257 and 7/31/2005 2400 cj



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THE KEYS ARE IN YOUR HANDS

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