Out on the fast freeway loving along through a buildup and [masquerade?] Stringing fast through the cloud of spray goes the high performance motor queen.
And she looks round at me, reflecting the [???] in her motoreyes. And now the chase is on. I know who`ll be the loser: me.
Sees the [???] they go back on the street through the late theater crowds. And the stoplights go and we`re cruising side-by-side, still coming round.
And she looks round again, her motoreyes ought to tell me when. Put your right foot to the floor, show me she`s no slow woman.
She takes her cafe [???], smokes small cigars, showing just a touch of thigh. And sips her whisky straight, she stays up late, kiss the morning bye-bye. Now we`re out of town. Got to shake her down if I can stay along. Got my blue light on. Gonna [rend her net?] with my siren song.
Push over to the side. Her motoreyes are staring wide. She flashes her at me, and makes a bigger fool of me.
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