Dirty faces, packed suitcases
Run for planes with untied laces
In a hailstorm, setting sail for
Places we fight tooth and nail for
Bets are placed
The odds are thin
The gun's been shot
The race begins
The wheels will turn
The top will spin
For me, for she, for her, for him
Wake on the shores of a distant land
The hair, the TV, the baby, and the band
Sunburned back with my face in the sand
The hair, the TV, the baby, and the band
Winning races, stealing bases
Back to back, still dirty faces
Sketch the traces, tie the laces
Dot to dot to different places
Finish line
Is once again
Crossed without
Adrenaline
The wheels will turn
The tops will spin
For me, for she, for her, for him
Wake on the shores of a distant land
The hair, the TV, the baby, and the band
Sunburned back with my face in the sand
The hair, the TV, the baby, and the band
Eight hands pound on the concert grand
The hair, the TV, the baby, and the band
We'll dance on the stage or we'll sit in the stands
The hair, the TV, the baby, and the band
The wheels will turn
The top will spin
For me, for she, for her, for him
Wake on the shores of a distant land
The hair, the TV, the baby, and the band
Sunburned back with my face in the sand
The hair, the TV, the baby, and the band
Glass worn thin from the grains of sand
The hair, the TV, the baby, and the band
Fresh fruit's best when it's ripe and canned
The hair, the TV, the baby, and the band