by Nicholas Johnson

 

I’m not cut out for life in the slow lane.
Get back in the car and don’t slam the door.
Don’t ask me to explain

this epic catalogue of aches and pains.
I don’t want to live like that anymore.
I’m not cut out for life in the slow lane.

I’m still that strange Tin Angel sitting in the rain
you loved. Back then you knew what you loved me for.
You were dead sure. I didn’t have to explain.

I did things my way and you didn’t complain.
We can’t forget all who came and went before
but we’re not cut out for life in the slow lane.

So when I drive, I drive like I’m insane.
Sit tight. You’re still my darling girl next-door.
Why you love speed so much I can’t explain.

It could be worse. We could be in a plane
in a nose-dive towards the earth’s hard core.
We’re not cut out for life in the slow lane.
Please, don’t ask me to explain.

 

Nicholas Johnson (1944-2019) was the co-founder and editor of BigCityLit. We encourage you to read our 20th Anniversary Issue, which is dedicated to Nicholas’ memory.