The Irony Engine

You kept a death grip on the armrest
You slept as I swerved through bumps and dips
You leapt at the chance to act alarmist
You swept past my face like an eclipse

You act like I'm your chum and I can treat you like my little sister
But if you cover the sun with your thumb you should expect to get a fever blister

And if the air is filled with a sickening hum
Don't be upset or overcome
Don't worry
It's just the irony engine working

You rose like a crane to the occasion
You froze at the very implication
You chose to divert the whole invasion
By winking and shrugging and smirking and giving me an awkward seatbelt hug
Before you vanished in the chilly autumn
I could hear the motor chug
Something tearing loose and striking bottom
But if you can't quite see how a three-pronged plug
Could supervene on the lunar tug
Don't worry
It's just the irony engine working
Yeah don't worry
It's just the irony engine working