I drove for hours in a make-believe world,
The envy of boys and thrill of every girl.
I pushed on the horn, pretended it blew
A gift for the poor, but to me it was new.

Still today, there’s not a Coupe deVille,
That comes close to how it made me feel;
For I felt like a king in my fiery red rod,
Thanks to the folk from the church of God.

Then rust ate the red; it soon fell apart,
But could not take the shine from my heart;
Memories today that still make my eyes burn,
Waiting on my brothers to take my turn.

A penniless boy, rich beyond compare,
Spinning his wheels in the driver’s chair.
Today, I cruised back to that time so far,
To that happy boy in his little red car.

Written by Loyd C Taylor
Little Red Car
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