Covered in dust, familiar with rust,
The Cadillac has a flat.
Taking a look, just call a hook,
The Cadillac has a flat.
Twenty liters in your thorax, you tell me to relax,
The Cadillac has a flat.
Blood on your pillow, your skin is sallow,
The Cadillac has a flat.
You’re fixin’ to die. You won’t even try.
The Cadillac has a flat.
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