I met her outside a museum down in Oh-re-gon
Where you drink 103 race gas and it tastes just like Coca cola
She walked up to me and she asked me to race.
I asked her name and in a dark brown voice she said, “Lola”
L-O-L-A Lola, Nine-teen-eighty-eight Pontiac Fiero Lola offered for $14,000 via craigslist).
Well, I’m not the worlds most mechanical guy,
But when I squeezed the throttle open she nearly broke my spine
Oh my Lola, Fieroo oo oo Lola
Well, I’m not dumb but I can’t understand
Why she turns like a Lotus and sounds like a Camaro
Oh my Lola, Fieroo oo oo Lola, Fieroo oo oo Lola
Well, we drank race gas and apex’d all night,
Under a pop-up headlight,
She picked right up but stopped on a tee,
And said, “Little boy won’t you drive home with me?”
Well, I’m not some kinda Jay Leno collector,
But when I looked in her pop-up lights,
Well I almost fell for a Fiero Lola,
Fieroo oo oo Lola, Fieroo oo oo Lola
Lola Fieroo oo oo Lola Fieroo oo oo Lola
I put down the key. I closed the garage door.
I fell to the floor. I got down on my knees.
I looked at her, and she at me.
Well that’s the way that I want it to stay.
And I always want it to be that way for my Lola.
Fieroo oo oo Lola.
Fieros will be Camaros, and Camaros will be Fieros.
It’s a mixed up, muddled up, shook up world,
Except for Lola. Fieroo oo oo Lola.
Well I left home just a week before,
And I’ve never ever raced a Fiero before,
But Lola smiled and took me by the shifter,
And said, “Little boy, gonna make you a mister.”
Well I’m not the car world’s most knowledgeable man,
But I know that I had a V8 in my Camaro,
And so does Lola.
Fieroo oo oo Lola. Fieroo oo oo Lola.
Lola Fieroo oo oo Lola. Lola Fieroo oo oo Lola
My apologies to the Kinks.