How you taunted me on that fall evening of yore
When the rum was still plentiful but trimmings ran dry
We saw you at the station at a quarter 'til four
We pulled up and stopped just two meters shy
Oh, your lovely front door with the display of choices
For our aperitif pleasure (more rum in the trunk)
The radio blared the loud pop sixties' voices
I in the back seat was Cooter Brown drunk
I fell out the car door and put in required change
(Some might remember the machine's vertical door)
I chose Sprite as a mixer; locked it in at close range
Opened the portal and gave pull like a chore
The coke machine faced me, the car at my back
Something was going quite literally wrong
It started to tilt then it rocked with a crack
The radio changed to a Rolling Stones song
No escape possible; I stood fast my ground
As the massive machine tilted towards me so slow
My friends did laugh heartily assuming they'd found
The best entertainment; a live torture show
But when the heavy beast fell upon me in full
And my life was saved only by it hitting the car
And I was trapped under, just a foot from my cull
That's when they realized just where they were
The cops would be beckoned; the scene was too hot
They manned their positions and lifted the beast
If the station was open, we'd all have been shot
But God looks out for the whores and the thieves
My biggest complaint on the morning thereafter
Was a loud aching back and the need for a drink
I remained highly pissed by the sound of their laughter
But being raped by a Coke machine sure makes you think