The art of cruising isn’t hard to master.
Just drive down Main Street on Saturday night
And if challenged to a race — drive faster.
Tell all your friends, (but perhaps not the pastor) —
When searching for sin in a town full of blight,
The art of cruising is the task you must master.
The music is so loud it puts cracks in the plaster —
And teenagers covet the cover of night:
They can get to home base much faster.
It is the perfect fuel for a parental disaster —
As youth discover to their horror and fright:
The art of cruising can be a damn foolish master.
And High School is a cruel, unforgiving taskmaster —
Inspiring the young with intemperate spite:
You want them polite, but rudeness comes faster.
I am an old sheep already ready for pasture:
Rarely awake past 9pm at night —
But the art of cruising isn’t hard to master —
Slow is for the old; the youngish prefer it faster.