The Shit Box

I drive a shit box Honda
It never fails to go
With locomotion on my windshield
and green onions on the radio.

Past the pushers and the pimps
Stops where I can make some dough
With locomotion on my windshield
and green onions on the radio.

Under the highway to a dive
Where I can see a show
With locomotion on my windshield
and green onions on the radio.

When I lose direction
The shit box seems to know
With locomotion my windshield
and green onions on the radio.

Pinging and knocking
A rod it may throw
With locomotion on my windshield
and green onions on the radio.

If it can't make it home
I'll just get a tow
With locomotion on my windshield
and green onions on the radio.