When I was young,

          A blanket…

          A hiding place on the floorboards…

          And a sneak into the Drive-In Theatre,

Now that was a carfull of backseat trouble.

Then later,

          A case of beer under the seat…

          A hairdresser my mom knew…

          And my best friend’s girlfriend giggling in the front,

There’s a carfull of backseat trouble.

Then along came the baby, and with him

          Came the in-laws,

          And the dog or cat in the grocery bags,

          And the mess with the car-poolers.

All my life I’ve seen it and had it,

All my life I’ve lived it and known it,

I guess I’m just in for a carfull of backseat trouble.

At sixteen I was in a “heap of trouble”;

          At twenty “you have no direction”;

          At forty “your life is a mess”;

          And now “what a waste” is all I hear.

“Nothing” has seemed to be the only thing that works for me.

My debts came due and no money;

My grandkids come to visit and no playground;

The car is new but I don’t get to drive;

And how I long for those “backseat” times.

It couldn’t be that something else was out there,

It couldn’t be a different drag,

I’m still hiding and sneaking and dealing with “over-my-shoulder” worries,

I’m still living a “carfull of backseat trouble life”.   

The backseat was the life I chose even though it came with a

          Carfull of trouble.

I’m in a Carfull of backseat trouble life,

I’ve got a Carfull of backseat trouble blues.

                                                                                      Selah

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