Two-Tone '57 Fairlane - FRANTIC GARAGE-ROCK - by MARTY

This is the kind of song you write about a ’57 Ford Fairlane. [Pre-Chorus] Engine throwing heat, T-Bird Y-block singing under the hood Friday’s down to a knife-edge by the curb Got a fistful of change and that Ford engine shaking I swing the door—c’mon, we’re sliding out now Headlights pool in the oil stain by the faded striped space Cracked asphalt around the diner sign [Chorus] Two-tone ’57 Fairlane We’re both too tired to say much, so the motor does the talking Two-tone ’57 Fairlane Pull past the cafe, let the waitress watch us stall and start again Two-tone ’57 Fairlane V8 hum, hood ornament catching the weak glass from the window Colonial White roof in the mirror, then we’re gone before the check comes back Two-tone ’57 Fairlane A little worn out, a little wired, still running on fumes Two-tone ’57 Fairlane Wide rear fins and a push-button radio The speedometer needle bounces, the fuel gauge reads full [long saxophone solo] [Chorus] Two-tone ’57 Fairlane Colonial White roof, Dresden Blue body, whitewalls clean Two-tone ’57 Fairlane Pull past the cafe, don’t ask us to stay Two-tone ’57 Fairlane V8 hum, hood ornament catching the light Colonial White roof in the mirror, then we’re gone in the night Two-tone ’57 Fairlane A flash of chrome, a rumble deep Two-tone ’57 Fairlane Wide rear fins and a push-button radio The speedometer needle bounces, the fuel gauge reads full [long saxophone solo] Bench seat split, vinyl hot on the backs of my knees Dash clock stuck at 9:20, tilted in its chrome ring Radio dial glowing, static hiss on the AM band Glovebox latch loose, spilling old maps and gum wrappers Dresden Blue dash, cigarette burn near the vent Dome light flickers when I hit a bump, then goes dark Grease on my hands, on the rim, on the seat seam [long saxophone solo] Steam curling off the diner coffee by the register Percolator coughing on a scarred Formica top 1957 Fairlane hardtop Two-tone paint, bench seat cracked, push-button radio low That’s where we stop, then we head back out the gate [Bridge] Last booth by the window, chrome-edged counter, no plans Sugar packet split, map spread flat by the napkin holder The waitress says, “You’ll be back,” like she’s seen this movie And the Fairlane idles like it’s already leaving Chrome in the sugar shaker, two bad decisions and a full tank We don’t need a reason, just a road and a name So we pay the tab in coins, slide the cups aside Turn the key, let the whole block hear that V8 wake up [very long saxophone solo] [Chorus] Oh, two-tone ’57 Fairlane Back out on the gravel, let the engine talk Oh, two-tone ’57 Fairlane Dresden Blue flank, Colonial White top, and the waitress waves us off Oh, two-tone ’57 Fairlane Pull out slow, pull out clean, let the whole town watch us go Oh, two-tone ’57 Fairlane Where the chrome throws back your face till the tailpipe starts to glow Oh, two-tone ’57 Fairlane Wide rear fins, radio low, and the bench seat still smells like smoke Oh, two-tone ’57 Fairlane One more cup, one more song, then we’re gone before the red turns white Oh, two-tone ’57 Fairlane [long saxophone solo]