Prophetic warning song to all (you) youngsteranons.

My uncle has a country place

That no one knows about

He says it used to be a farm

Before the Motor Law

And on Sundays I elude the eyes

And hop the Turbine Freight

To far outside the Wire

Where my white-haired uncle waits

Jump to the ground

As the Turbo slows to cross the borderline

Run like the wind

As excitement shivers up and down my spine

Down in his barn

My uncle preserved for me an old machine

For fifty odd years

To keep it as new has been his dearest dream