The Distance

Reluctantly crouched at the starting line,
Engines pumping and thumping in time.
The green light flashes, the flags go up.
Churning and burning, they yearn for the cup.
They deftly maneuver and muscle for rank,
Fuel burning fast on an empty tank.
Reckless and wild, they pour through the turns.
Their prowess is potent and secretly stearn.
As they speed through the finish, the flags go down.
The fans get up and they get out of town.
The arena is empty except for one man,
Still driving and striving as fast as he can.
The sun has gone down and the moon has come up,
And long ago somebody left with the cup.
But hes driving and striving and hugging the turns.
And thinking of someone for whom he still burns.

Hes going the distance.
Hes going for speed.
Shes all alone
In her time of need.
Because hes racing and pacing and plotting the course,
Hes fighting and biting and riding on his horse,
Hes going the distance.

No trophy, no flowers, no flashbulbs, no wine,
Hes haunted by something he cannot define.
Bowel-shaking earthquakes of doubt and remorse,
Assail him, impale him with monster-truck force.
In his mind, hes still driving,still making the grade.
Shes hoping in time that her memories will fade.
Cause hes racing and pacing and plotting the course,
Hes fighting and biting and riding on his horse.
The sun has gone down and the moon has come up,
And long ago somebody left with the cup.
But hes striving and driving and hugging the turns.
And thinking of someone for whom he still burns.

Cause hes going the distance.
Hes going for speed.
Shes all alone
In her time of need.
Because hes racing and pacing and plotting the course,
Hes fighting and biting and riding on his horse.
Hes racing and pacing and plotting the course,
Hes fighting and biting and riding on his horse.
Hes going the distance.
Hes going for speed.
Hes going the distance

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