Street Racers Delight

Off the line
first, second
stomping it
I’ll catch that punk
passing their ass
third into forth
a buck twenty
their car ain’t fast enough
to out run me
forth to fifth
there’s the traffic light
red to green
spray all the way
another Civic toasted



Sense Of My Life

All you hear is
Squealing tires,
Roaring engines,
Booming Stereos.
Then the smell of
Burnt rubber,
Exhaust fumes,
Cigarette smoke.
Only the sight of
A parking lot with
Tall bright lights,
American muscle,
Chrome gleaming.
Life on the edge
No past, no future
Only the moment.