Your sheet metal doth th’ impression fill Which sanctioned sponsors stamped upon my bonnet; What cares Tonto for foreign cars, The horse is happy in my carburetor. You are my Daytona, My fruitful Dale, None else to me, nor I to none alive, Can take your place at the pole. In so profound abyss am I lapped, Of others’ voices in the pitstop. To suffer such outlandish abuse in switching lanes Mark with my bumper I do dispense. You are so strongly in my engine block bred, No longer do I mourn, now the flag is raised.