Wasi River Road Rage

[Banjo warning riff]
(Banjo kicks in like a siren, rolling on the low strings, pick scrape like a handbrake turn, fiddle slide like a tire squeal)

[Verse 1]
Heard a rumble down the sideroad, gravel jumpin’ in the bed,
Got a trunk full of lawn chairs, paperwork I never read,
There’s a rooster on the dash, there’s a cooler full of ice,
Every pothole on the backroad rolling loaded dice.
Mail truck in the mirror, dog hanging out the door,
GPS is yelling, “Turn!” but we done passed it four,
That old Chevy’s doing sidequests on the shoulder line,
Every corner feels like punchlines on a hazard sign.

[Pre-Chorus]
Female: You missed the ramp, you hit the bump, you scraped the licence plate,
Male: I downshift through the chaos, let the banjo navigate,
Female: There’s cones and cows and traffic laws in low-speed slow parade,
Gang: We drive this dusty punchline like a county fair charade!

[Chorus]
Gang: It’s that Wasi River Rage on the county road stage,
Tires singin’ harmony in bluegrass chase,
Male: With hazards, controls, and banjo rolls,
Female: We’re drifting through the ditches but we mind our roles,
Gang: Not in anger, but in light, we fishtail through the night,
We document the risk, then kick the drum just right,
Male: In this psychosocial hazard rodeo on wheels,
Gang: We don’t bury the signal in the noise of squealing steel!

[Verse 2]
There’s a minivan of grandmas in a NASCAR draft,
They’re passin’ in the slow lane with a knitting craft,
School bus in a slalom dodgin’ pothole pits,
Pizza guy’s in hot pursuit with twenty late-night splits.
Stop sign doing nothing but a cameo flash,
Four-way with a tractor in a three-point crash,
Radio’s a banjo and the sirens sing along,
Every near miss sounds like punchlines in a fiddle song.

[Chorus]
Gang: It’s that Wasi River Rage on the Friday night stage,
Tailgate tambourines in a backroad chase,
Male: With hazards, controls, and banjo rolls,
Female: We’re skidding round the chaos but we keep our souls,
Gang: Not in anger, but in light, we laugh our way through fright,
We document the risk, then kick the drum on sight,
Male: In this psychosocial hazard rodeo on wheels,
Gang: We don’t bury the signal in the noise of spinning steel!

[Breakdown]
(Banjo drops to a single string, engine idle groove)
Male: Left turn, right turn, wrong turn, who knows?
Female: Map flew out the window where the cornfield grows,
Male: Sheriff at the four-way doing square dance signs,
Gang: Everybody dosey-doe across the center lines!
(Banjo rolls faster, bass walks like frantic footsteps)
Male: Every bump’s a punchline, every skid a rhyme,
Female: Every honk’s a harmony in halftime climb.

[Bridge]
(Half-time stomp, handclaps like door slams)
Male: We stack the cones like chorus lines, we mark the gravel spray,
Female: We circle every chuckhole where the hubcaps went astray,
Male: Clipboard on the dashboard, we are drafting with a grin,
Female: We log the spin-out footprints like a dance we practiced in.
Gang: Not in anger, but in light, we chart the curves we slide,
Male: We write the tale of every trail this car chase tries to hide,
Female: It’s a psychosocial hazard rodeo tonight,
Gang: But we don’t bury the signal in the screamin’ tire white!

[Final Chorus]
Gang: It’s that Wasi River Rage in a bluegrass chase,
Headlights bouncing to the backbeat pace,
Male: With hazards, controls, and banjo rolls,
Female: We heel-toe through the chaos with connected goals,
Gang: Not in anger, but in light, we spin but steer it right,
We document the risk, then kick the drum on sight,
Male: In this psychosocial hazard rodeo we feel,
Gang: We don’t bury the signal in the noise of rubber peel!

[Outro]
(Banjo slides down like a handbrake, fiddle holds a long bend)
Male: When the dust cloud settles and the hubcaps fall,
Female: We’ll laugh about the chase at the old dance hall,
Gang: Wasi River Rage on the gravel we page,
Banjo: (plink-plink) Case closed on the car chase stage.