Pontiac Songtext
von Fred Eaglesmith

Well it′s a Pontiac
It's a ′63 Strato Chief
With three in the tree
It belongs to me
My baby
Her and me
We go driving down on Highway 17
She puts on the radio
Rolls down the window
Lays her head back
It's a Pontiac
It ain't got no wild horses painted on its side
Any objects in the mirror are precisely their own size
It′s got a chrome Indian in front of the door
Might be an Apache or an Arapaho
Or a Pontiac
Or a Pontiac
There was an incident last night
At 17th and 3rd It all happened so fast
Nobody′s really sure
Somebody held the rifle
Somebody held the sack
And as fast as they were there
Well they were gone just like that
In a Pontiac
The antifreeze is boiling
And the oil pressure's low
And the pedal′s to the metal
It's as fast as it can go
And the stain on her shoulder
Is getting darker, you know
And the radio keeps blasting out the facts
It′s a Pontiac
It's a Pontiac
It′s a Pontiac
It's a Pontiac