Eleven o'clock on a motorway it wasn't very nice, still raining
Spied a man he looks away, I never liked him much no conversation
Skills went on a quiz show once, and nearly won, encyclopaedic
Sunday drive to birthday lunch, had an argument, they're car sick

Oh, shiver on to your own front door
So much to get back for

Clumsy, clumsy aren't we, dressed in paper
And holding hands with gloves on
Eyes in comedy shades

We're clumsy aren't we, wrapped in paper and fears
Can't pay attention when you've got glue ears

Seven o'clock on a motorway, she isn't going out she's only
Visiting Dad who was locked away
Now he just recites lines from movies
Kid in the back is eating flies
Wish his mother didn't dress him funny
She still sighs still dots her eyes
With little hearts she worries