My mom and dad live west of town, Two more who cannot get around. Gas, brake, gas, brake, gas, brake, swerve. You've hit upon my final nerve. Those traffic jams, those traffic jams, I do not like those traffic jams. Traffic detoured through the town, makes it tough to get around.
More people mean more cars in sight, stopped at every traffic light.
North side, south side, east and west, I'm telling you, this town's a mess. There are too many detour signs, and orange barrels forming lines. Those traffic jams, those traffic jams, I'll never like those traffic jams. I'm forced to deal with them a lot, they take more patience than I've got. But I must learn to live with them, my choices are to sink or swim.