Айгор — Jalorida

Jalorida.
Engine roar cuts the avenue in half,
Throttle pushed to the max.
Hot asphalt is sticking to the tires,
Pin to the seat lid till it cracks.
Jalorida.
Jalorida.
Jalorida.
Jalorida.
Jalorida.
Jalorida.
The needle is hitting the red line,
Night lights blur into a streak.
The chassis shakes from the low end,
Keeping the gas at the peak.
Jalorida.
Jalorida.
Jalorida.
Jalorida.
The smell of a burning clutch, breaking away.
Jalorida.
Jalorida.
Jalorida.
Jalorida.
Jalorida.
Jalorida.
Fingers locked tight on the wheel from the tension,
Heartbeats in sync with the lows.
Pulses pounding right in the temples,
Tearing the night as it goes.
Jalorida.
Jalorida.
Jalorida.
Jalorida.
Jalorida.
Jalorida.
Jalorida.