Wheel me gently to the garage, since my car and I must part— No more for me the records and the run. That cursed left-hand cylinder the doctors call my heart Is pinking past redemption — I am done! They`ll never strike a mixture that`ll help me pull my load. My gears are stripped—I cannot set my brakes. I am entered for the finals down the timeless untimed Road To the Maker of the makers of all makes!SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
The script ran 0.001 seconds.
