Awhile down's been left in the dust. All through the town. A' Several years since we seen them near. It's the dying sound!. Divide the time on another ride.
Casts his shadow miles across the sun. Keepin' them in sight when they run. All of a sudden we hear the 4 send. Trackin' 50 feet above my head. . (chorus).
Days we roll. 20 years - all 4 gears. Wherever they go. They go. . Back for more. They know what's in store. The chrome it screams - whatever the speed.