Red Barchetta(Live R40 Tour)
My uncle has a country place
- My uncle has a country place
- That no one knows about
- He says it used to be a farm
- Before the Motor Law
- And on Sundays I elude the Eyes
- And hop the Turbine Freight
- To far outside the Wire
- Where my white-haired uncle waits
- Jump to the ground
- As the turbo slows to cross the borderline
- Run like the wind
- As excitement shivers up and down my spine
- Down in his barn
- My uncle preserved for me an old machine
- For fifty-odd years
- To keep it as new has been his dearest dream
- I strip away the old debris
- That hides a shining car
- A brilliant red Barchetta
- From a better vanished time
- I fire up the willing engine
- Responding with a roar
- Tires spitting gravel
- I commit my weekly crime
- Wind in my hair
- Shifting and drifting
- Mechanical music
- Adrenaline surge
- Well-weathered leather
- Hot metal and oil
- The scented country air
- Sunlight on chrome
- The blur of the landscape
- Every nerve aware
- Suddenly ahead of me
- Across the mountainside
- A gleaming alloy air-car
- Shoots towards me two lanes wide
- I spin around with shrieking tires
- To run the deadly race
- Go screaming through the valley
- As another joins the chase
- Drive like the wind
- Straining the limits of machine and man
- Laughing out loud with fear and hope
- I've got a desperate plan
- At the one-lane bridge
- I leave the giants stranded at the riverside
- Race back to the farm
- To dream with my uncle at the fireside
Come to join my duet!
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