My Flintstone Wheels

Feet through the floor in a stone‑age car.
Dust on the dash and a bent‑up bar.
No fancy chrome, but His mercy seals.
I’m rolling home on my Flintstone wheels.

I stall and sputter on uphill roads.
Heart getting crushed by my old loads.
Still through the gravel His kindness heals.
He keeps me going on my Flintstone wheels

These busted streets won’t stop our roll.
Every pothole we're in control.
I don’t need smooth for how hope feels
Just you and me on our Flintstone wheels

They fly on by in their polished rides.
Chasing the wind with  prideful guides.
I’m slow and simple, but truth reveals.
I’d rather ride on my Flintstone wheels.

This wobbly ride shakes my coffee smooth.
The seatbelt’s stuck in a knot or two.
Dust in my nose while the dashboard peels,
We chisel our name on our Flintstone wheels.

These busted streets won’t stop our roll.
Every pothole we're in control.
I don’t need smooth for how hope feels
Just you and me on our Flintstone wheels

We roll right through on a narrow lane.
Dodging the potholes and avoidin pain.
Laughing at rust while the bumper squeals.
Still cruising on our Flintstone wheels.

One day we’ll see a brighter shore.
No potholes like the ones before.
Let these old shocks rest from all their squeals
I’m so grateful for my Flintstone wheels!

These busted streets won’t stop our roll.
Every pothole we're in control.
I don’t need smooth for how hope feels
Just you and me on our Flintstone wheels
These busted streets won’t stop our roll.
Every pothole we're in control.
I don’t need smooth for how hope feels.
Just you and me on our Flintstone wheels.
"Yabba dabba do!!!!

Strong elements of: pop rock and jump-blues (horn-driven, danceable feel)
Male singers