These automobile dreams
Have broken my legs in their
Lifeless aluminum and greasy
Glass shinning at me
Shinning me back at me
And I feel so small because
My reflection is redirected
I cannot read about myself in time magazine
I do not see me on the TV
I am two steps away from the fame
I am one step and out of the game
The puddles insult my shoes
As the radio sings the songs
I might have wrote if I’d had
My pen ready, the ink is wet
Against another blank masterpiece
And the man with the camera
Is waiting for the call
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