From Diamondback to Two-Stroke Roar

<foreign_language〉 We were mountain- kid small, with the world up high.

Diamondback frames under pine blue sky. Gravel on our shins, coaster brakes that

whine. Scraped-up knees and a finish line. Maps were rumors, trails were lines.

Chasin' every sun through the timber line. Laughs like thunder, lungs like springs.

Dust for breakfast, wild for wings. Every switchback wrote, our names in clay.

Every echo said, "Don't you fade away." From diamondback dreams in the mountain

air. To Honda powered, two-strokes everywhere. 40 years of dirt in our

teeth and hair. Still that kid grin and still we don't care. Kick it, twist it,