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I Want My Flying Car

Words and Music © 2006 by Tom Smith
Released under a Creative Commons Noncommercial ShareAlike license
When I was growing up, spies and outer space stuff were huge. And there were a gazillion or so visions of futuristic technology, from Maxwell Smart's shoe phone to The Man From Glad's jet pack and flying platform, from the Jupiter 2 to the Enterprise's transporter beam. (My own favorite vision of the future was Jule Newmar as AF-709, the robot on My Living Doll.) Everybody just knew it would be really cool, at least in getting from Point A to Point B.

Forty years later, and here we are with money-bloated petro-corporations, global warming from pollution, wars in the Middle East, and big, ugly boxes driven by people more interested in their cell phones than in your, or their, personal safety.

I like my version better.

I'm a twenty-first century man
With my twenty-first-century stuff
But my GPS and PCI-Express
Are never gonna be enough

I got a toothbrush that turns the mattress,
Got a phone that'll walk the cat
My plasma TVs record DVDs
But I don't care about that

I want my flying car
I want my flying car
I want this two-bit Dodge the hell out of my garage
Hitch my station wagon to a star
I want my flying car

They told us we'd have robots and portable fusion,
Clone our bodies so we wouldn't stay dead,
But I have to doubt 'cause it didn't come out
The way Mr. Asimov said.

My coffee brews itself every morning,
My shower cleans itself every night,
But twice a day I'm caught in a traffic knot
I'm growing older at every red light.

I want my flying car
I want my flying car
You know it just ain't fair, I wanna hit the air
Bid the street life au revoire,
I want my flying car
I want my flying car
If I make a mistake I can use my air brake,
Or grab a phone line with a spar,
I want my flying car

No more waitin' and hatin, and jerks tailgatin'
When I'm levitatin' over the town.
Parking fees wouldn't matter, I'd drop a rope ladder
Over side and climb right down.
No barrels or cones or construction zones,
No blasting radio in the next lane,
I'd put on a Stetson and make like George Jetson,
If I've got a flyin' car, I can get a girl like a

A thousand miles to the gallon,
It never rides bumpy or loud,
When the weather gets nasty, I make a real fast Z-
Postive climb through the clouds,
I never worry 'bout signs or signals,
'Cause who's gonna take me to jail?
Wait, what's that siren? Is someone else flyin'?
I got pigs on the wing on my tail.

Up in my flying car
I want my flying car
Why stay on the ground when you can drive around
In a Chevrolet Shooting Star?
I want my flying car
I want my flying car
Well, I don't care how, 'cause I'm ready now,
The future can't be that far,
I want my flying car.

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