Cars are fine feats of art,
At least in part.
Curvy lines that flow...
Far be it for me to denounce them.
But, (and the existence of but is curiously secure)
There is something amiss.
Cars, in all their finery,
Are drab creatures,
Lacking an important feature.
Moving sculptures should growl and purr
And capture your eyes in a flurry of wow.
But they've all been washed together
And have come out uniformly drab.
Our roads are a Soviet rainbow.