I would never read a book if it were possible for me to talk half an hour with the man who wrote it.
Woodrow Wilson
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He Thought of Cars
Moscow's still red
The young man's dead
Gone to heaven instead
The evening news says he was confused
The motorways will all merge soon
Lottery winner buys the moon
They've come to save us
The space invaders are here
He thought of cars
And where, where to drive them
And who to drive them with
And there, there was no one, no one
There's panic at London Heathrow
Everybody wants to go up into the blue
But there's a ten year queue
Columbia is in top gear
It shouldn't snow at this time of year
Now America's shot gone
And done the lot
He thought of planes and where,
Where to fly to
And who to fly there with
And there, there was no one, no one