Из альбома: San Antone
She weren't much to look at she weren't much to ride
She was missing a window on her passenger side
The floorboard was patched up with paper and tar
But I really was something in my old yellow car
An American boy with his hands on the wheel
Of a dream that was made of American steel
Though the seats had the smell of a nickel cigar
I really was something in my old yellow car
Somewhere in a pile of rubber and steel
There's a rusty old shell of an automobile
If the engines would run or these tires would hold
That old yellow car would be driving me home
There's the seat where poor Billy threw up on his date
And where Larry and Sandy could no longer wait
There was no road too windy and nowhere too far
With two buck of gas in my old yellow car
Somewhere in a pile of rubber and steel
There's a rusty old shell of an automobile
If the engines would run or these tires would hold
That old yellow car would be driving me home
Take a look at me now throwing money around
I'm paying somebody to drive me down town
Got a Mercedes Benz with a TV and bar
And god I wish I was driving my old yellow car
God I wish I was driving my old yellow car