Four Slicks
by Matt Cocola
As we wind on down the road
Our engine fires up our soul
Don’t be a baby and go slow
Transmission’s whining revs are low
The rubber’s screeching tires cold
And if you listen to the car
The traction comes to you at last
Hammer’s down and gear is tall
Race to the top and you’re on pole
And we’re driving a highway to heaven.
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