The social, industrial question
Does not allow and does not want me to walk
In the window a blood-colored Mustang
I have a new sexual ideal
I abandon the virgin woman at the altar
I love in iron and blood a Mustang
Blood-colored
In the headlamp I see your eyes
My hand touches the driving wheel
On the dashboard I see your love
And my body invades the innards
The social, industrial question
Does not allow me to be faithful
In the window a honey-colored Corcel
In the headlamp I see your eyes
My hand touches the driving wheel
On the dashboard I see your love
And my body invades the innards
The social, industrial question
Does not allow me to be faithful
In the window, a honey-colored Corcel
My Corcel, honey-colored