Ever-Rolling Hills

Rediscover your old esprit Lost deep beneath a heap of cheap antiques Only a key need coax the ignition And away you'll speed through the streets, taking no sneaking peaks behind Feel the wind rush through your youthful hair As you despairingly swear "the engine cannot be repaired!" Turn your head three-sixty degrees Beyond the smouldering car is a hard shoulder of ever-rolling hills And if by some poor chance your unhappy Take for those hills for a change of scene