You throw your machine into gear
The engine's ringing in your ears
Red-yellow-green light you pop the cluth screaming away
Burning rubber as you sneer
Seconds click your opponents fears
First-second-third-fourth a quarter mile is done – the triumph is yours
Top fuel, there is no stop
Dragsters racing, what a clug
There is no better high
The blur of the audience as you fly by
Second shaved off my time
Blink of an eye – the finish line
Black and white – chekered flag
Engines stop and reality snaps back
Top fuel, there is no stop
Dragsters racing, what a clug
There is no better high
The blur of the audience as you fly by
Top fuel, there is no stop
Dragsters racing, what a clug
There is no better high
The blur of the audience as you fly by, as you fly by