Just two little litres

Of boxer madness

Whine and backfire.

The turbos put up

No fight to spin

And my claim to win

Hinges on the pressure

Of cold air pumping in.

Is it wrong to call this car

My friend?

I could Spend hours

Disassembling you

And solving your puzzles

With the skin of my hands.

Let’s go out tonight.

We’ll find a dirt road

Or climb a mountain

Or attack the asphalt.

We both have the style

My aggressive Subaru.

Growling at strangers

Win or lose.

We face untold dangers.

Outcast by credentials.

We come home.

We sing the blues.

Racing a world that

Makes us feel alone.

I wax your paint.

I polish my boots.



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