Cabrel Francis
From one Shadow to another
Driver
There are the white bands that parade,
There is your life that clings to its thread .
You're in the red zone of the meter,
And you no longer care about the colors.
You definitely don't want your hands to shake,
There are the trunks of the trees that await you,
Even in difficult passages,
There are white bands that parade.
There is the wind that whistles under the sheets,
And the cry of the tires when you take off,
And behind you the night falls
On the narrow wake of your bomb.
Is that it's your heart that makes the machine scream,
Or the engine that beats in your chest,
And that propels your projectile
Between the white bands that parade?
And you want to see the world around in liquid mists,
And that's why you always run in the fast lane.
You're a driver.
You push the music to the loudest,
So as not to feel the fingers of death.
And neither the dogs that bark in their sleep,
And nor the men of law that you wake up .
You see a few light spots on the backs of the trucks,
A few crooked words on the bogus signs,
And your blood makes the needles rise
Until the red the fires you burn.
You're a driver
And you want to see the world around in liquid mists,
That's why you always run on the fast lane .
You're a driver.
You say that you know your name by heart,
And that you prefer the sound of your engine,
What if never no one stops you,
You will crash into the bottom of the planet,
And you say that you vibrate when the turns come forward,
And that the speed give it your chance,
And that you are never so calm
As when the white bands go by.
You want to see the world around
in liquid mists,
br/>And that's why you're always running
on the fast lane.
You want to see the world around
in liquid mists.
Hey! You're a driver...
Driver, driver...
You're a driver, driver...

SUBMIT CORRECTIONS