The highway’s swept and washed - it’s shining, clean and dry,
I’ll race today on it - like dough the stakes are rising;
My finish lies ahead - the land there meets the sky...
I have to be the first on the horizon!

I’ve bet I’d win the race, though some have promptly said:
“The bet’s unjust and far from being sterling...”
The terms are strict - I must keep racing straight ahead
With no digression and with no turning.

So short are miles - I’m spooling them on tires
And driving parallel to the electric wires...
Strange shadows would flash before the engine -
From cats to someone dressed in black they’re ranging.

Into my wheels, I know, they gonna poke sticks
And they will cheat on me in their phony mode,
On me they gonna play a lot of dirty tricks
And even string the rope across the road!

Gas pedal - to the floor! The engine gets the fits!
A pebble at this speed becomes a bullet!
I grasp the wheel so hard that cramps would seize my fists
I have to hurry lest they block me fully.

So short are miles - I’m spooling them on tires,
Now driving vertical to the electric wires...
They fasten bolts - they really get my goat! -
And want to string a rope against my throat!

Those crooks who made me race and take this rigid bet
Are base and mean in their undertaking;
Excitement gets me drunk but even with all that
When passing curves and corners I am braking!

And asphalt melts beneath, the tires boil and run,
A sucking fright my heart and liver clutches...
My naked chest has torn the rope they had strung,
But I’m alive - stop playing mourning marches!

So short are miles - I’m spooling them on tires
And I still drive in spite of cords and wires...
Damned losers must behave a little wiser
When I arrive the first to the horizon!

Yet the horizon is as ever far away,
I’ve beaten cords but I must always keep war footing;
The rope didn’t break my vertebra - but they
Sporadically from bushes are still shooting.

I race for no prize - to nothing I pretend!
For me the drive itself is tantalizing...
I have to understand if Earth has got the end
And if it’s possible to widen the horizon!

So short are miles - I’m spooling them on tires
No one has beaten me so far - whoever tries!
But brakes are breaking down - it’s a coda! -
I sweep through the horizon in short order!