THE S.U.V. SONG

Look there in your rear-view mirror
Trying to make you feel inferior
Is it mini-bus or hippopotamus
A surrealistic design
They sit high with windows tinted
Gleaming chrome at which you squinted
Tires that by their size seem to jeopardise
Both your safety and mine

   SUVs, they S-U-C-K
   SUVs, they S-U-C-K
   At a frightening clip
   When their tires strip
   Watch as they swerve and tip

In the Showroom, big and Glossy
On the Road, those pigs are Bossy
With their heavy load, think they own the road
Think that they are The One

They were made for rougher terrain
In the city they're a huge pain
And their drivers all feel so powerful
As they give it the gun

They're all owned by new-aged yuppies
Baby bankers, X-Game puppies
And they drive around, screwing up our town
Much too wide for the street

Let's outlaw them with a referendum
It'd be easy, who'd defend them?
We'd take back the roads from those SU Toads
Wouldn't that be a treat?

Now, the Sports Utility vehicle is fine in it's proper setting, but what are these oversized plushy hummer wannabees doing on the streets of New York City? Is Fifth Avenue a steep grade? Need your kayak when you're going to Central Park? Why remind people of cars from puppet animation shows? Why cross the line between vehicular and testicular? Just buy a station wagon.

When you're cut off once too often
By those four-wheel-driving coffins
With their sporty names, and their bogus claims
You will know the drill

Find a SUV and tail it
At a red light, go and nail it
They'll call you a jerk, they'll need bodywork
You will just have the thrill