words as gas as trees as words

there’s probably an extended metaphor
about a car that can go fast as hell
and no doubt for long distances
if you don’t mind the constant presence
of alert lights and the frequent danger
of getting pulled over with no license
but the diminishing returns have hit
and my whole thing right now is
you won’t speak clearly
there’s always some part breaking down
and you send me under the hood
over and over to diagnose
and replace broken things
and you’ve got me back in the metaphor
because it’s a vulnerable thing
admitting you’re off balance
and i know part of you wants me to beg
to see how far you can push me
before i take off my seat belt
and hit the gas as hard as i can
but i know you’ve got a brick wall
all planned out and built
and baby i love you
but i ain’t driving drunk tonight
and i’m back in the fucking metaphor
goddamnit