Going 125 down 37
It’s 4 in the morning
And the head lights shine cold
A twist of the wrist
Causing turns in the wheels
Rolling begins
Whilst floating in air
Tires spinning on
Highways undriven
Till crashing down

And the police
They’ll come
And a fire truck too
An ambulance
And parents
Dazed and confused
And the question remains
Why he lost control
But only that old soul
Shall ever know
 
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