Threads and Rules

Listening to a song about threads,
Bedsides and wounds bleeding day and night—  
Voice of an angel, purple and gold.

A Christmas carol?
Heartburn.  
I’ve bad manners:  

Incapable of being polite and insincere,
A defect I’m sure.
But I also pretend I don’t notice every lie.  

“Drive asshole!”
I know I’m driving too slowly,
Following the rules too carefully.  

But how can I say that?  
I’m not even sure what the rules are.  
Do I break them or apply them with a vengeance?