Steel Popovers.

Your editing is quite Well done and so black and so white Quick and drums with whizzing Visuals make my balls Ache because your car calls For men to get off their ass and truly Be the men they ought to be And my life has no drums or Slick cuts or plasticlever analogs But somehow I'd pay a great deal To watch you drive quick and heel your stupid vehicles Over a cliff, smashed into heaps of folded piles Of brushed-metal death, scattered pastrybrain nodes, Shiny emerods Offered to the gods.