Where Are We Poem by John Leroy Maxwell

I'm driving the car, youre reading the map,
but it's upside down as it lays on your lap
First you say left, then you say right, I'm
trying self control here, with all of my might
You said you were good with a sense of
direction, excuse me my dear, let me make
a correction
We've gone just one mile and have been
driving an hour
Your sense of direction has left me sour
You say it's my fault that we're lost, and your
loudly starting to nag
Baby you'd get lost in a brown paper bag