Two Hundred Miles an Hour
(c)2007 Bob Atkinson
two hundred miles an hour
we ain’t seen top speed yet
flying through the ess curve
track dry or wet
feelin’ tires spinnin’
hearin' motors' high pitched whine
moving faster, always
to the front of the line
we’re just a small band of he-roes
our fame is forever known
how we’ll hit the wall at 180
and still be ready to go
we see in speed a challenge
we hear our egos roar
as loudly as the motors
produced in mass by Ford
it's not such a little thing
to see the poles go by
as streaks instead of fingers
reaching high for the sky
it’s not to win that keeps our fear
from crushing us like broken gear
we see ourselves breaking bonds
of Newton’s laws and Einstein’s thoughts
no longer in a world set still
where quiet pauses cannot thrill
we need the feel of acceleration
to feed our desires and expectations
as loudly as the motors
produced in mass by Ford
it's not such a little thing
to see the poles go by
as streaks instead of fingers
reaching high for the sky
it’s not to win that keeps our fear
from crushing us like broken gear
we see ourselves breaking bonds
of Newton’s laws and Einstein’s thoughts
no longer in a world set still
where quiet pauses cannot thrill
we need the feel of acceleration
to feed our desires and expectations
