Road Rage

Who is that fiend, I asked today, that races down the road,
In a hard-cased metal tomb that the Devil kindly sold.
He must have heard, despite the growling protest of a wail,
For in that instance a defense of smoke erupted from its tail.
It blinded me from seeing who believed to have control.

Play your lavish games with your flimsy mortal soul,
And with a jolt of impact crash, as reality takes its toll.