Dark red skirted fenders
A screaming Indian chief out front clearing the way
Headlights stacked high
Turning night into day
Three inches of fire from stray internal combustion
Adorning my exhaust tips
Tiny flames upon horizontal candles as the speedometer is pegged
Eyes peeled front and rear wary of the CHiPs
111 cubic inches of Thunder Stroking manhood
Feeding staccato sound
Echoing off the canyon walls
A call for the tribe to gather round
To witness in delight
The owner of this road tonight
A screaming Indian chief out front clearing the way
Headlights stacked high
Turning night into day
Three inches of fire from stray internal combustion
Adorning my exhaust tips
Tiny flames upon horizontal candles as the speedometer is pegged
Eyes peeled front and rear wary of the CHiPs
111 cubic inches of Thunder Stroking manhood
Feeding staccato sound
Echoing off the canyon walls
A call for the tribe to gather round
To witness in delight
The owner of this road tonight
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