Brooklands -

Coming over the headland

At high speed

With the sun at my back

From the valley below me

Carried on the breeze

The cry of the engine is calling

Like a ghost on the water

That shimmers

In silver and red

Flying over the surface

To the finishing line

Racing away from the shoreline;

Back there as a young lad at Brooklands

Mountains rise into the distance

Jetsam drifts on the water

Driving onto the banking

At high speed

On the 50 foot line

The cry of the engines

The roar of the crowd

The hammer strikes sound

In the workshops

The smell of burned oil fills the air

I rode there on two wheels

Came back with four

I said all my words on the racing line

She watched me from the half-crown

And from the measured mile

Race the fading light

I was a lucky man, a lucky man

I did the things I can

The things I can’t explain

On the racing line

Lived life at high speed

Too fast too far

I was a lucky man, a lucky man

I did the best I can

I’d do it all again

But where did all the time go?

Where did all the time go?

Coming over the headland

At high speed

With the sun at my back

The cry of the engines

The roar of the crowd

Racing away from the shoreline;

Back there as a young lad at Brooklands

Mountains rise into the distance

Jetsam adrift on the water

I was a lucky man, a lucky man

I did the things I can

The things I can’t explain

But where did all the time go?

Just give me one more run

On the racing line

One more time

One last time