Every day you lower the bar
You’ve a garage, a driveway, and only one car
Yet every day you’re in my layby
How are you selfish? I’m so mad I could cry
There’s so many machines, and so few spaces
All on a first come, first served basis
But because you insist on the whole bay
I have to park a neighbourhood away
Now I’m not unreasonable, and I’d understand
If there were a reason you needed so much land
But the garage never opens
And the driveway vacancy never ends
So what’s the deal? Do you hate me, too?
Does my woebegone Honda so offend you?
Or is it me? Am I in the wrong?
Wanting to park in sight of my house, and not walk for as long
No, it’s you. You’ve really gotta stop.
Why? Because. You’re. In. My. Spot.