Big boys depend on grace,
Yard-sale helmet and a foam neck brace,
Back-end ramming power,
How recklessness flowers
From our subatomic place.

chorus
Death to all sandbaggers.
Cowards unwelcome here.
God loves sons and brothers
for their total lack for fear.
And so, to the derby
We must go.

Surrounded by these amateurs,
Come for pink popcorn and beer.
They’ve no appreciation
For the Impala painted
Like some deadly jungle bird.

chorus

The maniacs get more cheers.
America finds her soul here.
Fury, Centurion—
All that we hope to become—
Bonneville and Cavalier.

chorus

©2006