Let it eat

Sun goes down, lights burn bright,

Rubber on the pavement every Friday night.

Engines screaming, green flag flies,

Forty hungry drivers with fire in their eyes.

Helmet buckled, window net tight,

One little mistake starts a Saturday fight.

Bumpers talking through turns one and two,

If you want that trophy, nobody’s letting you through.

Three wide, door to door,

Hear the whole grandstand roar.

Every lap’s another chance,

This ain’t luck—it’s a full-speed dance.

Bang the wall! Hold your line!

Half a second at a time.

Side by side, wheel to wheel,

This is what adrenaline feels.

Short track thunder, blacktop flame,

Everybody knows your name.

Checkered flag or busted frame,

We’ll be back next week the same!

Fresh tires biting, sparks gonna fly,

Trading paint underneath the summer sky.

Crew in the pits with grease on their hands,

Living every lap with the hometown fans.

Yellow flag waving, stack ‘em up tight,

Everybody knows this restart’s the fight.

One more shot, one more dive,

Nobody came here just to survive.

Turn ’em left! Let it eat!

Feel that heartbeat with the beat.

Smoke and rubber fill the air,

You either earn it—or leave it there!

Bang the wall! Hold your line!

Leave your fear back on the line.

Hear those V8s shake the ground,

That’s the sweetest racing sound.

Short track living, born to race,

Rubber marks across your face.

When the checkered starts to wave,

You know this life is why we’re brave.

Friday night… under the lights…

See you next week… we’ll race all night