Suicide
Shift
Yeah, this is my last grace
I've got to make, I've got to make it
count
I'm out front and lost
Screaming around the turn
I'm out front and lost
I slam it into third
Their getting close
The tires start to burn
Yeah, I'm out front and lost
The eight ball clutch, the eight ball
clutch in hand
The engine whines, wants to blow
No way I'll let it go
Engine cries, wants to blow
A secret takes my fate...
No way I'll lose
...a secret takes my faith
I've got four miles and three years to
go
Yeah, and I got flames, flickering...
To reach you, fiercley around you
I got flames kissing the gas tank
It's my last grace
The tire splits open, four my wheels
The tire cracks open, the road wants me
to win
Something on the radio...
Yeah, she wants me to win
I finger the switch, pour the nitris tank
Yeah, I explode...Over the finish line
I front...I've lost...I've thrown it all
away
They'll make my grave under the finish
line
And They'll mark my grave all under the
finish line