We were fast cars, back road racing,
kids with no missions
except the next good time
around the next curve or corner,
hell-bent angels,
flying with wings on fire.

We were a small town road show,
fast friends sharing life at 3-digit speeds,
and that wild man wild times bullet-proof
young man kind of living,
hell-bent angels,
just flying with wings on fire.

Eating life like a buffet
of crazy endless days
and never-ending roads,
daredevils laughing at it all,
hell-bent angels,
just flying with wings on fire.

And then one day we watched
as they put out your fire
and folded your wings,
heaven-bound angel,
too young to be
flying here no more.

Too young to be
flying on earth no more.