The Last Thing On Your Mind

Richard B Gillion
Apologies to Tom Paxton

At the junction too late for the turning, youíll get banned, youíll get banned.
With the map of the route you were learning, in your hand, in your hand.
	You started to turn without a signal of intent
	See the debris you left far behind.
	To cut up those two cyclists was ever so unkind
	It was cruel, but you donít seem to mind.

	You are going away to a ten by eight cell
	All your freedoms are left far behind
	You caused a ten-car pile up watching that girlís behind
	I know that was the last thing on your mind.

As I walk along the street you keep turning, round and round, round and round.
Leave the roundabout and head down the subway, underground, underground.
	Are you travelling by rail without leaving your car?
	Itís not meant for road traffic youíll find.
	If you donít get off the track before the express comes along.
	Youíll end up looking just like bacon rind.

	You are going away . . .

Youíve got reasons a-plenty for driving, this I know, this I know.
But the way youíre going thereíll be no arriving, please drive slow, please drive slow!
	Are you going away in that wreck of a car,
	With no lights, not in front nor behind?
	The tyres are so bald, youíll never stop in time,
	Even though the brakes have been relined.

	You are going away . . .

As I lie in my bed cased in plaster, thanks to you, thanks to you, 
Iím lucky to be here and not hereafter, ícos of you, ícos of you.
	Did you have to drive off while I was reaching in the boot
	Without checking the mirror behind?
	Iíll never touch a car again, if I get out alive,
	You know that was the last thing on my mind.

	You are going away . . .

Tom Paxton