Racing Fake Ferrari

The leather seats of my Ferrari make me smile.
The fancy and useless rims in my four wheels are my motivation to wake up tomorrow.
The headlights in front of my red flaming speed racer talk to me in my sleep.
Hit the gas and forget about insurance.
No worries about gas mileage.
Step on the breaks suddenly and spin around in Newbury Street.
A scratch on my little baby and my world crumbles.
Curved patterns of pavement - Yellow signs in school zones.
Airs of greatness in Sunset Boulevard - Stupid blondes turning their heads to see me.
Habitual relentless dreams of the nothing - I repeat to myself the question "Is this real?"

Car crash. Insurance. Death. Woke up and kissed my girlfriend. Fuck Ferrari.