Sailor: Traffic jam

From the eighteenth century's cobblestone streets With the horse and the carraiges to rest our feet To the train and city tram Came the birth of mechanical man And with mechanical man came the automobile Henry Ford's Model 'T' with an engine on wheels And a crazy race began, with a car for every man. A limousine, hot rod, Beetle and a van, or maybe just an old sedan. We're heading for a great big worldwide traffic jam With only red lights, green lights, yellow lights To be our guiding hand. We're heading for a great big worldwide traffic jam With all the hoots and the toots and the traffic brutes To fill our loving land. I wonder who's gonna win this great big race, Mechanical man or the natural pace? From the back seat Romeo in lover's lane To the family car on a highway in Spain, There's a car for every need, With the shape, the colour and speed. It's the twentieth century's technical toy, Full of buttons and dials, full of comfort and joy But the number's going up - I wonder where it's gonna stop The limousine, hot rod, Bettle and the van, It's gonna go way out of hand. We're heading for a great big worldwide traffic jam With only red lights, green lights, yellow lights To be our guiding hand. We're heading for a great big worldwide traffic jam With all the hoots and the toots and the traffic brutes To fill our loving land. I wonder who's gonna win this great big race, Mechanical man or the natural pace For the world's getting smaller, And the time's getting shorter every day... We're heading for a great big worldwide traffic jam We're heading for a great big worldwide traffic jam We're heading for a great big worldwide traffic jam