I�m standing in front of my car.
I�ve got the hood popped, but I don�t know how to get inside.
The salty-fluid, from the radiator, leaks around her headlights
The light covers open and shut, almost like eyes blinking the tears away
The whole chassis is sagging, the tires seem low, the paint seems to fade in front of my eyes.
She looks all torn up inside. I wish I could just ask her what was wrong.
I wish I could get the lid off the heart of this machine
I would fix the leaks, I would lift her up, give her new wheels to run on.
If only I could find a way to ask, without having to force the hood off.
If only I could be the mechanic for this situation and patch the holes.
I am trying to lift off the hood without getting into the fire.
I am trying not to get sprayed in the face by the boiling hot liquid, let it come down on my shoulders, not on my head.
I have the strength. I have the willpower. I have the ability.
I have shared with this car more than with my best friend; we have shared things that no one could understand.
Maybe, she doesn�t feel the way I do. Maybe she�s just made of cold steel. Maybe everything is the way she wants it to be.
But the way that she lets the floodgates go, I cant let it go on anymore. I have to do something. There has to be a way for her to let me under the hood.
Come on, let go the latch, let the springs hold this cover up in the air.
Let me take a look, see if I can help. Plug into your problems, and if I cant do anything then I�ll just be there to share your last moments.
Ill sit there with you and watch you die, leaving a bit of myself, burying a bit of myself in the ground with you.
But if there�s a hope, even just a bubble of hope inside, that hole, then let me patch it. Let me stop the water from leaking, let me fix the problems, please let go the latch and let me have a look�
