My uncle has a country place that no-one tknows about He says it used to be a farm, before the tMotor Law Sundays I elude the 'Eyes', and hop the tTurbine freight To far outside the Wire, where my white- thaired uncle waits
tJump to the ground tAs the Turbo slows to cross the borderline tRun like the wind, tAs excitement shivers up and down my spine tDown in his barn tMy uncle preserved for me, and old machine- tFor fifty-odd years tTo keep it as new has been his dearest dream
I strip away the old debris that hides the
Rush Red Barchetta