there's this Girl
i like.
She comes  by  once every
Thursday night, Six o'clock
Pulling in right in front in her
White Mercedes car -
She's always on time.
Meanwhile I'm late, but -
Cursing cruising down the interstate -
Weaving up lanes and weazing up smoke -
She's already at my place
And she's ready to go.
I think -
I love -
her.
But there's no way she feels the same.