Wrench in my hand and the grease on my skin
Waiting for midnight for racing to begin
Check every valve and the fuel line is tight
Under the hum of a pale yellow light
Turn the key and let the engine sing
Feel the rush that a fast summer can bring
Silver chrome and the smell of the gasoline
The cleanest machine that I have ever seen
Puddles of purple on black asphalt street
Wiping the oil while I soften the heat
Tuning the timing to catch a sharp breeze
Bending the metal with effortless ease
Parking lot lines like a map on the ground
Listening close for a perfectly tuned sound
Checking the pressure in the blue nitrous tank
Taking a gamble with a heavy risk bank
Turn the key and let the engine sing
Feel the rush that a fast summer can bring
Silver chrome and the smell of the gasoline
The cleanest machine that I have ever seen
High register notes like a choir in the hall
Waiting for someone to give me a call
The cello is weeping a low steady drone
Working this motor all on my own
One final turn of the bolt and the screw
Looking for something that feels bright and new
Parking the car by the motel room door
I cannot ask for a single thing more
Turn the key and let the engine sing
Feel the rush that a fast summer can bring
Silver chrome and the smell of the gasoline
The cleanest machine that I have ever seen
Nitrous and velvet.
Just let it sing.
Let it sing.
