There are those that question whether racing's a sport It's not played on a diamond a field or a court. It's played out on a track, an oval of fate, for the brave souls who dare to enter its gate.
The track's unforgiving it shows no remorse, for those that are reckless in handling the course. To look at the track, there's no end in sight. A continuing circle, A circle of flight.
To the racers on hand, the track is a test. A monster to conquer But it's also a quest. A quest to control the beast which they drive. A beast that can humble, A beast that's alive.
Alive with the power that beats through their soul a gut-wrenching rock, and a mind-numbing roll. The beast and the driver, both bent on control, will fight to the end the battle taking its toll.
The beast may get torn, the driver may tumble, the battle can strengthen, the battle can humble. The beast may be boiling, the driver's senses on fire. Both machine and the man will fight
to the wire. But the beast and the driver in the middle must meet, to battle the track to battle the heat. The heat from the others that are daring the track, A track that takes what it wants But it
doesn't give back. The track shows no mercy, it shows no respect, to those that have triumphed much less those who have wrecked. The track's theirs to conquer week after week, The
elusive checkered flag is all that they seek. It's racing for the win, putting their lives on the line, that keeps them in racing, and what keeps the sport mine. So to those of you out there who
just can't comprehend and place doubt on our sport, take a lap 'round the bend. Only then will you know what it takes to compete you can't understand fully til you sit in the seat. Written by:
TrdnPaint "Drive It Like You Stole It" |
