Brooklands Sequence

Coming over the headland at high speed
With the sun at my back. From the valley below me carried on the breeze
The cry of the engine is calling
Like a ghost on the water that shimmers
In silver and red
ying over the surface
To the nishing line
Racing away from the shoreline
Back there as a young lad at Brooklands. Mountains rise into the distance. Jetsam drifts on the water
Driving onto the banking at high speed
On the 50 foot line
The cry of the engines the roar of the crowd
The hammer strikes sound
In the workshops
The smell of burned oil lls the air
I rode there on two wheels
Came back with four
I said all my words on the racing line
She watched me from the half-crown and from the measured mile
Race the fading light
I was a lucky man, a lucky man. I did the things I can
The things I can't explain
On the racing line lived life at high speed too fast too far
I was a lucky man, a lucky man. I did the best I can
I'd do it all again
But where did all the time go?
Where did all the time go?
Coming over the headland at high speed
The sun at my back
The cry of the engines, the roar of the crowd
Racing away from the shoreline
Back there as a young lad at Brooklands. Mountains rise into the distance
Jetsam adrift on the water
I was a lucky man, a lucky man. I did the things I can
The things I can't explain
But where did all the time go?
Just give me one more run on the racing line
One more time
One last time