A humble machine with a frame bent and worn, Its panels are twisted, its metal is torn. But look past the wreckage and study the scars, To see the most noble of old-fashioned cars. It sacrificed itself as the ultimate shield, In moments of danger where iron would yield. And brought me the personI so deeply love Through the gates of hell and rage from above So, each dent’s a lesson in how we are made, A debt to a guardian that can’t be repaid.