When daring the wide world, and in the brightest days,
and casting off the servitude of parents' clingy ways.
When making your voice heard, or just watching a cloud,
It's vital to remember that motorcars are loud.
The loudest noises come and hurt your big-kid ears
Even when your plans today did not include your fears.
Tipping the earth by vision's light when it comes roaring round,
A motorbike or truck or something shaking up the ground.
It's felt in the shoulders, head, and toes, and knees, and brain,
And that wish the mists of Avalon would dampen them again.
Bubbling up inside of you, it crumples paper hearts,
And bounces in your belly long after it ends and starts.
But unexpectedly, those interrupted plans
Are like reality again, you're playing in the sand.
A mother's son, a father's girl, trying to be proud,
You just have to remember that motor cars are loud.