Henry Ford

歌詞

Look at this fine piece of bright machinery. Smoothly run and man made. It's well looked after and serviced daily and it's olied with human multigrade. Grease guns in hand, folk throughout the land, scrape the shite from off the fan, daily. Some, understand, 'neath bonnet all ain't grand. Spanner was in hand. now in works. Does Henry Ford live? In the sky with earlier models, some with broken wings? Given the parts we need? Consult his manual for instruction to understand the bleed. Direction lost. Wheels comin' off. Drinking fuel. Abusing tools. Affecting us passengers. Confusing signage. Limited mileage. Drivers blind. Out of their minds. Bound to crash. Cannot last. Planes crash. Trains crash. Cars crash... see? Planes crash. Trains crash. Cars crash... see?