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The point of racing is to be the best, like no one ever was.
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 stern.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 canThe sun has gone down and the moon has come up. And long ago somebody left with the cup.
to catch them is my real test
to train them is my cause
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