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
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