Flywheel

There’s something ‘bout ‘gettin’ that rust to spin,

Draggin’ that belt ‘til the engine kicks in.

A black cloud blowin’ out the tailpipe,

Seein’ him smile saying “Damn that’s nice.”

This bucket hasn’t run since ‘73,

When my pop let me drive sittin’ on his knee.

He’d push the pedals and I’d steer her ‘round,

Just two guys on the road, tearing up the town.”

This old flywheel, needs to keep turning,

Going somewhere and nowhere as daylight’s burning.

My hands gripped the wheel as we pushed the rods and steel,

Nothing stopping the motion of this old flywheel.

Then I was off for a life of my own,

Years flew by, couldn’t make it home.

When I got back, the Chevy’s all he left.

I can’t watch it sit and die, it’s like he always said.

This old flywheel, needs to keep turning,

Going somewhere and nowhere as daylight’s burning.

Come on take the wheel, push the rods and steel,

There’s nothing stopping the motion of this old flywheel – this old flywheel.

Leanin’ in all wrenches and grease,

Reminds me of him and being sixteen.

Never said how he felt, we’d just roll up our sleeves.

But I knew what he meant – you know what I mean?

This old flywheel, needs to keep turning,

Going somewhere and nowhere as daylight’s burning.

Come on, take the wheel, push the rods and steel,

There’s nothing stopping the motion - No, there’s nothing stopping the motion –

Of this old flywheel – this old flywheel – this old flywheel.