Reluctantly crouched
at the starting line,
Engines pumping and thumping in time.
The green light flashes,
the flags go up.
Churning and burning,
they yearn for the cup.
They deftly maneuver
and muscle for rank,
Fuel burning fast on an empty tank.
Reckless and wild, they
pour through the turns.
Their prowess is potent
and secretly stearn.
As they speed through the
finish, the flags go down.
The fans get up and
they get out of town.
The arena is empty except for one man,
Still driving and striving
as fast as he can.
The sun has gone down and
the moon has come up,
And long ago somebody left with the cup.
But he's driving and striving
and hugging the turns.
And thinking of someone
for whom he still burns.
He's going the distance.
He's going for speed.
She's all alone
In her time of need.
Because he's racing and pacing
and plotting the course,
He's fighting and biting
and riding on his horse,
He's going the distance.
No trophy, no flowers,
no flashbulbs, no wine,
He's haunted by something
he cannot define.
Bowel-shaking earthquakes
of doubt and remorse,
Assail him, impale him
with monster-truck force.
In his mind, he's still driving,
still making the grade.
She's hoping in time that
her memories will fade.
Cause he's racing and pacing
and plotting the course,
He's fighting and biting
and riding on his horse.
The sun has gone down and
the moon has come up,
And long ago somebody left with the cup.
But he's striving and driving
and hugging the turns.
And thinking of someone
for whom he still burns.
Cause he's going the distance.
He's going for speed.
She's all alone
In her time of need.
Because he's racing and pacing
and plotting the course,
He's fighting and biting
and riding on his horse.
He's racing and pacing
and plotting the course,
He's fighting and biting
and riding on his horse.
He's going the distance.
He's going for speed.
