Текст песни
The disc brakes drag, the chequered flag sweeps across the oil-slick track.
The young man's home; dry as a bone. His helmet off, he waves: the crowd waves back.
One lap victory roll. Gladiator soul.
The taker of the day in winning has to say
Isn't it grand to be playing to the stand, dead or alive.
Чтобы увидеть полный текст,
Волна по треку
Похожие по звучанию треки из нашей коллекции