John Steinbeck
Lord, Mr. Ford
[Verse 1]
Now, I'm not a man to point or judge
To bury a will or hold a grudge
But I think it's time I said a few choice words
About that demon – the automobile
The metal monster with the polyglass wheels
End result of a dream of Henry Ford's
Sure, I've got a car that's mine alone
That me and the finance company own
A ready-made pile of manufactured grief
If I'm not out of gas in the pouring rain
I'm changing a flat in a hurricane
And I once spent three days lost on a cloverleaf
Well, it's not just the smoke of the traffic jam
That makes me the bitter fool I am
But that four-wheeled buggy's a dollar in me to death
Pour gas and oil, fluids, grease
And wires, and tires, and antifreeze
And then them accessories, well, that's something else
You can get stereo tape and color TV
Backseat barn and reclining seats
On top of those "easy" monthly payments
I figure that over a period of time
This $4000 car of mine cost $17,000.50

[Chorus]
Well Lord, Mr. Ford, I just wish that you could see
What your simple horseless carriage has become
But it seems your contribution to man
To say the least, got out of hand
Lord, Mr. Ford, what have you done?
[Verse 2]
Now, the average American father and mother
Own one whole car and half of another
And I'll bet that half a car is a bitch to drive
But the thing that amazes me, I guess
Is the way we measure a man's success
By the kind of automobile that he can buy
Well it's red light, green light, traffic cop
Right turn, no turn, must turn, stop
Get out the credit card, it's time for gas!
All the cars of the world placed end-to-end
Would reach to the moon and back again
And there'd probably be some fool who'd pull out to pass

[Chorus]
Well Lord, Mr. Ford, I just wish that you could see
What your simple horseless carriage has become

[Verse 3]
Oh, how I yearn for the good old days
Without that carbon monoxide haze
Hanging over that roar on the interstates
Well, if the Lord that made the moon and stars
Ought to meant for me and you to have cars
He'd have seen that we were born with a parking space
[Chorus]
Well Lord, Mr. Ford, I just wish that you could see
What your simple horseless carriage has become
This world was once a garden spot
But now it's one big parking lot
Lord, Mr. Ford, what have you done?
Lord, Mr. Ford, what have you done?

[Outro]
Come away with me, Lucille
In my smoking, choking, naughty mobile...