Oh ye trucks parked in the lot
I cannot find one spot
Do ye hear me scream?
Do ye hear me sob?
In this small parking lot
There is a lesson to be taught
When ye see two spots
Thine eyes seem to cross
So that ye see not two,
But one just for you.
The face in the mirror
Begs ye to see clear
Thine misdeeds and to hear
My screams as I see thine tires lost
Having the sacred line of white crossed
That ye have tossed and I bear the cost
Oh ye trucks in the Stew lot,
What must I plead so you see mine lot
That ye have deemed less worthy
Of the spots that thee taketh as a trophy.
