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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