’68 Fastback

Take my soul, take my heart
Tear me apart
If I'm good for anything, it's all of this suffering
So use me for parts
To you, I'm just salvage
I ain't ran right in years
So drive me, then gut me, deceive and fuck me
Then disappear
Well, take all my jokes
And tell them to them
And act like you're someone that could be someone
Worth loving
And steal all the good parts
You found in me
Yeah, you'll sell 'em quick, yeah, you'll sell 'em chеap
Hey, you'll give 'em for free
But I clеaned all my pistons
I'm running on 91
And I'm piecing myself back off the shelf
One by one
And now I've got a driver
Who chooses the high road
They don't use me for scraps or throw my ass back
When I hit potholes

And I'm flying down freeways
Going one-seventeen
And a '68 Fastback looks like a hatchback
Racing me

Ah, I believe
You cannot tear down what's built up strong now
Thankfully
Oh, I believe
That you cannot tear down what's built up strong now
Thankfully

And I'm flying down freeways
Going one-seventeen
And a '68 Fastback looks like a hatchback
Next to me