I'm riding the line
Smokin' rubber
Squealing tires
120 in the middle of the night
As fast as I can go
Into dark curves
Seen only
By the double yellow line
I can smell the engine burning
But I can't slow it down
Smoke
Smoke
And no fire
But I'm ridin' the line
With no where else to go
In the middle of the night
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem