He suffers the motion
Suffers the cry
As the car ploughs through a field of rye
He suffers the motion
Of the farmer
As he sails on by
You know that this field
Looks like an open sea
If it wasn't for the hedge coming into view
He suffers the emotion
Suffers her cries
As she mounts the pavement for the thirteenth time
He needs some kind of a potion
To take the fear of death from his mind
And he knows where he'd rather be
And it's not working daily for the DVLC
Oceans are made for calm drivers with time
Shelter those places you'll rest there in time
He's got whiplashed emotions
There's trouble inside
Like a Give Way sign at the back of his mind
But he still gives the motion
To pull over, just for a while
Oceans are made for calm drivers with time
Oceans throw rings round a lost sailors' pride
Oceans are places that leave cars behind
Shelter those places, you'll rest there in time