On a cloudy
March afternoon
we are driving
to buy records
you are my driver
wearing sunglasses
your black leather gloves
suit you well
I'm always lying drunk
in the back seat
the wind blows hard
feeling groovy
When we hear groovy music,
my baby driver
my baby driver
let's speed up
it's now 3 p.m.
we'll have tea at that cafe
you're wild
stop the car at the alley
stop!