On track
Buddh International Formula One Circuit, India Someday everyone has to compete, But it counts the pain, to get the feat, It’s all behind the curtains, As every sweat counts to get into main frames. It’s red, it’s hot, it’s svelte, it’s ahead, On the track, it surely does behead.
When burning is pleasant
The craze for drive, the flare for accords, The feel of burning, and the thrash of swords, The raise of hand, the crowd on back, The star is born even in shack.