He tried to kill us that day,
Got behind the wheel of a car,
A maniac for even thinking it,
Said we didn’t have to go that far.
He wouldn’t give me the keys,
Snatched them back from my hand,
Swore and cursed, slammed the driver’s door,
Said I would never understand…
Yelled he was OK after a pint or two,
But this was eight, maybe nine,
We’d argued and he’d embarrassed me,
Said I nagged him all of the time.
He swerved and veered from side to side,
Missing hedges, pathways and ditch,
I implored he stop and we change drivers,
But he called me a stupid bitch.
How we got home, I cannot tell
I was shaking and sick to the core,
But after that day, I saw to it
That he drove me nowhere no more.

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