Shout! (Shout!)
Count on me; I'm gonna win the race.
Count on me; I'm gonna win the race.
Room-dah-bee-boom, the whippering dong.
Room-dah-bee-boom, the whippering dong.
Now shut the door; keep down to south.
Shut the door; keep down to south.
Shut the door; keep down to south.
Not any track is turning, but the race is in my head.
I'm attacking the illusion, but the stopping drives me mad.
Time is running out, and the illusion fades away.
Time is running out; another day is on its way.
Another sun was shining, and he knew he wasn't great.
He didn't ever talk about; he knew he couldn't wait.
Are you ever gonna push me? Let me run and let me do.
I need it, and I'm ready, and I haven't got a clue.
Not any track is turning, but the race is in my head.
I'm attacking the illusion, but the stopping drives me mad.
Fire away!
This is the race!
Why?
Burn!
Shout!
Lies!
Give me the race!
Another sun was shining, and he knew he wasn't great.
He didn't ever talk about; he knew he couldn't wait.
I need this race!
Are you ever gonna push me? Let me run and let me do.
I need it, and I'm ready, and I haven't got a clue.
Any track is turning, but the race is in my head.
I'm attacking the illusion, but the stopping drives me mad.
Fire away!
Time is running out, and the illusion fades away.
Time is running out; another day is on its way.
This is the race!
Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen,
This is Billy McKloski from Palm Springs reporting for NBC Sports of
America.
Twenty seconds to the start of the thirty-first formula race, on a hot,
Sunny afternoon, here in California.
On the fast lane of the street I'm driving.
Sometimes, somewhere, I'm arriving
Every day and every night.
Why?
I need this race!
Count on me; I'm gonna win the race.
Count on me; I'm gonna win the race.
Room-dah-bee-boom, the whippering dong.
Room-dah-bee-boom, the whippering dong.
Shut the door; keep down to south.
Shut the door; keep down to south.
Shut the door; keep down to south.
Race in my head!
Artist: Pesado
Artist: Pussycat Dolls
Artist: Pencey Prep