In the wrong hands

In the wrong hands

They are lethal weapons

Too many people left for dead

Struggling for breath

In an enclosed space

Going red in the face.

On his own

In a tin can

After a row

In the mood for a revenge

Sitting in traffic

Steaming up

The air is too hot

Too cold.

Engines flutter under the hood

Temperatures are on the rise

The radio plays

Happy songs to start the day

Which never cools him down

But a rock anthem can bring out

The John Bonham in him

A syncopated rhythm on the wheel.

A guy in a Merc

Mouths the words

To Bohemian Rhapsody

It feels like Wayne's world

A woman in a Discovery is putting on her make-up

A man in a Jag is shaving

He catches the eye of another

In a Renault

Picking his nose

Whilst reading a paper

On the Illusion of Happiness,

Everybody’s done it,

So much for invisibility.

They are all in charge

Of lethal weapons

How did they get a licence

Even for an automatic

When everybody knows

A manual needs more skill

And tiredness kills.

One day

One way or another

Somebody will pay too high a price

For driving whilst under the influence

Of a restless heart

One day he mutters

One day

I’ll make these guys pay

For getting in my way.