Smooth sleek lines cruise on asphalt
Black-top macadam is their meeting place
Custom-built bodywork and moulded plexi
Screams down the freeway in another race
Long slim dude in a bucket seat
One with his machine, his soul in gear
Sound and vision he sees and feels
No regard for speed, he knows no fear
Cruisin' interstate their only pleasure
Working to the bone for a softer slide
There are demons on the highway, so stay to the sidewalks
As they slip to overdrive for a faster ride