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The garage mechanic approaches me shaking his head
He says there's nothing more I can do, I'm sorry
I gently stroke the bonnet
And think of the great times we had
You meant much more to me
Than just my first car
My alter ego and my pride and joy
I was so in love with your curves
In British Racing Green, chrome and root wood
My lucky star on all my journeys
My great freedom
We put our foot down so much
Now you're with the yellow angels
My wild years have gone with you
We always scored well in Flensburg
We often saw yellow and red
Your passenger seat was occupied by women
We saw many come and go
My lucky star on all my journeys
My great freedom
We put our foot down so much
Now you're with the yellow angels
My wild years have gone with you
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