The Distance

"Reluctantly crouched, at the starting line,
Engines, pumping, and thumping in time,
The green light flashes, the flags go up,
Churning, and burning, they yearn for the cup,
They daftly maneuver, and muscle for rank,
Fuel burning fast on an empty tank,
Reckless, and wild, they pour through the turns,
Their prowesses potent, and secretly stern,
As they speed through the finish, the flags go down,
The fans get up, and they get out of town,
The arena is empty, except for one man,
Still driving, and striving, as fast as he can.

The sun has gone down and the moon has gone up,
And long ago somebody left with the cup,
But he's driving, and striving, and hugging the turns,
And thinking of someone for whom he still burns...

He's going the distance,
He's going for speed,
She's all alone *all alone* all alone in her time of need,
Because he's..."

O.K., I'm tired of typing now. That was "The Distance," by Cake.