Trucks and cars,
Taverns and bars,
Stores and streets,
Beggars standing on their feet.
Everyday is a hectic day,
Some people are sad--some are gay,
Sirens are loud,
You see a crowd,
There has been a wreck,
Oh what the heck.
The city is a nasty place,
Cars moving at a fast pace,
Why weren't towns as fast
As the cars, who were invented by a man,
Who knows of the last, he says,
"Why not an electric fan?"
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