I love her eyes.
Those high beams look at me
A highway star, hypnotize
My black and chrome bumblebee.
I love the gaze;
Highlight white beams set me free.
Never cease to amaze,
The black and chrome bumblebee.
Whether it’s a Civic
Or a 458
Friday night at sunset:
Pull up, not a minute late!
‘Stallis Summer nights
Blacktop drag strip
Frozen custard club frenzy
A Krispy Kreme craze,
And a dream of destiny.
From Greenfield to Layton:
A symphony of sound,
Run after rampant run.
The pulse never goes numb.
High off potent vibrancy
Ethanol is my girls LSD.
She’s a fighter and a boxer,
But ain’t no Legacy
If she falls asleep, take her out
Make her a back-seater
In-line four, no need to shout,
He wears a white wife beater
They come from Lake Country or the 53146
Every zip code to get a whiff of gasoline fix.
Long and Tall Sally, Slim Jim and his slick-backed chicks
Mister Roboto and electric cigarette sticks
Back for eclectic atmosphere.
Passion on the street, they are two- knee deep
Cold-hearted but they bleed blue antifreeze
Money don’t fold but it sure as hell crease
When you can’t pay back Japanese lease
A show screen-written by Norm Lear
Fumigations fall like the water of Niagara
Wet like Pennzoil, that’s the Autozone Viagra
Send sour city slickers into hysteria
Slammed suspension in my small-town America
Carbon fiber wings at the rear
Rolling coal is the show, keep Lovers Lane clear
MAGA mad-hatters running high off of fear
Blazing orange down the road but ain’t hunting deer
Farm Boys with Daddy’s toys rubberneck and sneer
Adorn profane slang at the rear
Supercar showcase stands strong in silent stride
Ferrari’s his first love, but on his third wife
Appears once a year to stab youth like a knife
Hot shot in the Oscar lot larger than life
By midnight, he will disappear.
As we all do.
Highway is the avenue of our synergy,
Savior of our masculinity,
Cruise over vulnerability,
synchronized in symmetry.
We race across suburban skyline
In grey GTRs
We race at red lights redefining
Rules of the boulevard
The pursuit of unity,
In all six lanes
The fight for feeling free,
The scent of Mary Jane
The pursuit against police;
We feel no shame
Wind blown blonde hair,
Orange and purple flames
Like the living dead,
We haunt those in the way
We keep it one-hundred
For that’s our highway.