Under the shed light

It’s half past midnight, the town’s gone quiet,

But there’s a spark in the shed and we’re starting a riot.

Oil on our hands, steel on the floor,

One more little job, then one job more.

The welder’s glowing, throwing shadows on the wall,

Coffee going cold, but we don’t care at all.

The clock keeps turning, but we’re still working on,

’Cause come Saturday morning, this thing’s gotta run.

We’ve got busted knuckles and a head full of dreams,

Chasing that checkered flag and living on adrenaline.

Under the shed light, burning through the night,

Building these race cars till we get it right.

Monday to Friday, we’re chasing the dream,

Then Saturday night, hear that engine scream.

Mud on the trailer, fuel in the tank,

A little bit of madness and a whole lot of thanks.

We don’t do it for the money or the fame,

We do it for the noise, the speed and the game.

Friday afternoon, load it on the trailer,

Check the tyres twice, then check ’em again later.

Helmet in the seat, tools in the tray,

Pulling out the driveway, heading to race day.

Track lights shining, grandstands coming alive,

Heart starts pounding when you hear that first five.

Rolling to the grid, hear the engines roar,

All those late nights finally mean something more.

We’ve got fuel in our veins and fire in our eyes,

Four wheels, one chance, let’s see who survives.

Under the shed light, burning through the night,

Building these race cars till we get it right.

Monday to Friday, we’re chasing the dream,

Then Saturday night, hear that engine scream.

Mud on the trailer, fuel in the tank,

A little bit of madness and a whole lot of thanks.

We don’t do it for the money or the fame,

We do it for the noise, the speed and the game.

Sometimes we win, sometimes we bend it,

Sometimes the whole damn weekend gets expensive.

But come Sunday morning, when the dust settles down,

We’re already thinking ’bout the next time around.

’Cause there’s something about that green light glow,

That makes every late night worth what we know.

From the shed floor to the starting line,

We’ll do it all again every damn time.

Under the shed light, burning through the night,

Building these race cars till we get it right.

Monday to Friday, we’re chasing the dream,

Then Saturday night, hear that engine scream.

Hands full of grease, heart full of pride,

Racing with the people who are right by our side.

We don’t need a trophy to know why we came,

We live for the speed, the noise and the flame.

So kill the lights, let the old shed sleep,

Till Monday comes around and the dream starts again.

Another week, another car, another race,

Another late night chasing first place