My reach is far

My weight is heavy

The blood of the Earth

Fuels my drive

I hold the wheel

Of industrial age of influence

And power

A foot

Heavy with Lead

With every impulse

My adrenaline atones

To the Devil's striking force

Metal to metal

The breath of attack

Drives the torque of desire

As the disc grabs the flywheel

At 52 hundred RPM

Rubber rips from the asphalt

The stench of burning flesh as foul as death

A 1 80 of the wheel

The screeching circular motion

With a drop to second

The smoke screen of perception feeds me like a drug

A shift to realign to the symbol of eternity

 Behind the driver's seat

With the middle finger

In full stretched solute

"It's 1960, 5 yeah!"