It was sunday on fifty five south bound
his car started spinning all around
smoking tires making a screeching sound
actually he was going down fifty five
on his cell phone talking jive
he started to slide
couldnt stop
but he tried
his car hit the ditch
and turned up on its side
if not for luck
he could of died
the cops came and he couldnt hide
so he lied
he told them better tires did he need
when actually he was going over the speed
officer!
I was approaching a traffic jam ahead
I slammed on my brakes he said
my car started sliding like a sled
my tires being a little low on tread
luckily he wasnt drinking like he sometime does
or he would have been going for another ride
with the fuzz
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem