Из альбома: The Debt of the Dead
My dad built a racecar with his own hands
He raced the figure 8 against many reckless men
Driving deadly, driving metal, driving wicked, driving fast,
Always towards that intersection just praying they don't crash
Once when sitting on his lap I asked how do you not collide?
When you're flying so fast towards that crossroads
How do you decide who's gonna slow down
Who's gonna give in maybe enough to let the other guy win?
Who's gonna take their foot off the gas just enough to the other guy pass?
He said son, here's some advice you gotta promise that you'll never take,
The trick to it is my boy,
Is that you never, never hit the brake
He said "Son don't grow up to be a racecar driver"
He said "Son don't grow up to be anything like your father"
He said "Look at my car it's been ripped in half and I'm lucky to be alive"
"And when you turn 16, I will teach you how to drive"
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