I’m a crook, I steal cars
and when I’ve stolen one, I ignore all stops
I have to do what it takes
to avoid being caught by the cops

I’m a thief
I steal for fun
I get so high
the cops will never catch me, once I’ve begun

today I’ll steal this pick-up truck
I like his colour, this dark grey
oh no, I hear the sirens coming
I’d better drive away

I call a friend, he’s talking about some pick-up truck
while I’m riding
than my car crashes
now I have to start running and hiding

I don’t know who it was when I was calling
cause it was a moment of fear
some woman hit my stolen pick-up truck
hey, why are you hiding here?

I was running from the cops
when I hit this pick-up truck
now I’m hiding here
I think the call was bad luck


The moral of this poem was: stay on the right path and never ever call when you’re driving !



-- Tim R. -- Ft. -- your illusion --