Red Barchetta
Inspiried by 'a nice morning drive', by richard s. foster
Words by neil peart, music by geddy lee & alex lifeson
My uncle has a country place, that no one knows about
He says it used to be a farm, before the motor law
And on sundays i elude the 'eyes' & hop the turbine freight
To far outside the wire, where my white-haired uncle waits.
Jump to the ground
As the turbo slows to cross the borderline
Run like the wind,
As excitement shivers up & down my spine
Down in his barn
My uncle preserved for me, an old machine ---
For fifty-odd years
To keep it as new has been his dearest dream
I strip away the old debris, that hides a shining car
A brilliant red barchetta, from a better, vanished time
I fire up the willing engine, responding with a roar
Tires spitting gravel, i commit my weekly crime...
Wind in my hair ---
Shifting & drifting ---
Mechanical music ---
Adrenalin surge ---
Well-weathered leather
Hot metal & oil
The scented country air
Sunlight on chrome
The blur of the landscape
Every nerve aware
Suddenly, ahead of me, across the mountainside
A gleaming alloy air-car shoots towards me, two lanes wide
I spin around with shrieking tires, to run the deadly race
Go screaming through the valley as another joins the chase
Drive like the wind
Straining the limits of machine & man
Laughing out loud
With fear & hope, i've got a desperate plan
At the one-lane bridge
I leave the giants stranded
At the riverside
Race back to the farm
To dream with my uncle
At the fireside...
