Fire up that grey old machine that I picked up for under a grand
Say and let's drive it out at night on a dead straight piece of road
I thought that from a distance, if I squint
It kinda reminds me of that car from BTTF - The DeLorean DMC-12
It wasn't even based on a desire to go fast
No I just thought that's what men are supposed to do
Like playing football, swearing
Making fun of people's haircuts and not
Talking about your feelings or your fears
When I got my license I didn't drive
For the whole of the month that I got it
I didn't feel
All that "finally, freedom!" stuff you see in films and TV
But maybe blame me or wait, no
You should blame it on that awful desert town swelter
But some stupid voice that night
On the dark road was incessantly telling me to
GO FULL BORE
GO FULL BORE
GO FULL BORE
GO FULL BORE
Blasting Bathory cassettes, high on bad production
Eating stale old sausage rolls from dodgy petrol stations
It was the late 90's
But my head was in the 80's
In the 90's, 80's stuff was lame as hell
Feeling isolated
In the middle of the country
It was midnight and I wasn't doing well
I recently dreamt
That these wheels were collectible, prized & highly sought after
And my ex girlfriend stole mine and
Totalled it trying to do a burn out on the grass
And I woke up with an unruly feeling,
An odd weird desire to drive that old Magna
Well anyway, back to my story
I was out there alone when that voice screamed again
GO FULL BORE
GO FULL BORE
GO FULL BORE
GO FULL BORE
♪
I gradually stepped on the pedal & I got it to 140 km's an hour
The steering wheel started
To shake a bit and
I got nervous, so I slowed back down
The next day was more or less normal
Except for some reason I told my father
And he rarely got pissed off with me
But I heard the tone in his voice change as he said
NO FULL BORE
NO FULL BORE
NO FULL BORE