“Pontiac” by Lyle Lovett
I park my Pontiac
Down the hill out in back,
Late every afternoon
With a Coke and a cigarette.
And all of the neighbors there
They see a nice old man.
And the girl there across the street,
She sits on her front porch swing.
She never realized
What I told her with my eyes
How back in the second war
I killed twenty German boys
With my own bare hands.
And the woman inside my house,
She won’t stop talking.
She never says a thing;
She just keeps talking.
And I might just leave her still
After the sun goes down.
And I smoke this cigarette…
