You Can Never Hold the Power of I-40 in Your Hand

I am splitting my tongue with picture album wire
In the half light of cars, that pass my unsteady
body. On the freeway, families pass near, lovely
Slowly, slowly the lights dim above me

Heat, in the kitchen, like the heat of the tires
Nearly exploding and cars, for just car's sake are
slowly, like mountains, crashing in the frozen tar
Come to the household to see who you are

Mom drives the stove and dad beats the radio on
Belt is in my calf and I don't know how to choose
Do you ever feel like your team was formed to lose
Cursing, mom says, just learn to use cruise

So I learn with my teeth, putting too much on plate
The four door families, eyes Chrysler red, brake late
Choking on tar, new fam'ly yells. Elucidate
Does it matter, the meter, or family state