Her eyes are tethered to a sun. A sun,
a distant star, far flung, where ballads sung
are always true, faces are a ruddy hue
and lights in her rear view are never blue.
The girl in fiesta lime sits sublime
as her motor purrs in cosmic time.
She flashes past grazing deer without fear.
Kyle Petty would envy the way she steers.
She flashes as she passes an old truck.
While waving the trucker says bless my luck.
She flashes, she dashes enthralling all
she's the epitome of have a ball.
With her eyes on the prize, she glides. She rides
the wild road, high on all life provides.