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Red Barchetta
Lyrics
My uncle has a country place that no one knows about
He says it used to be a farm before the Motor Law
And on Sundays I elude the eyes and hop the Turbine Freight
To far outside the wire where my white-haired uncle waits
full lyrics...
My uncle has a country place that no one knows about
He says it used to be a farm before the Motor Law
And on Sundays I elude the eyes and hop the Turbine Freight
To far outside the wire where my white-haired uncle waits
full lyrics...
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Features Of This Song
hard rock roots
mild rhythmic syncopation
demanding instrumental part writing
major key tonality
a vocal-centric aesthetic
an electric guitar solo
a dynamic male vocalist

These are just a few of the hundreds of attributes cataloged for this song by the Music Genome Project.
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Suddenly ahead of me across the mountainside
To far outside the wire where my white-haired uncle waits
At the one-lane bridge I leave the giants stranded at the riverside
Publisher: CORE MUSIC PUBLISHING CO
We'll fire up the willing engine responding with a roar
Go screaming through the valley as another joins the chase
For fifty-odd years to keep it as new, has been his dearest dream
Wind in my hair, shifting and drifting
And on Sundays I elude the eyes and hop the Turbine Freight
I strip away the old debris that hides a shining car
A gleaming alloy air-car shoots towards me, two lanes wide
Jump to the ground as the Turbo slows to cross the borderline
Tires spitting gravel, I commit my weekly crime
My uncle has a country place that no one knows about
A brilliant red Barchetta from a better vanished time
Drive like the wind, straining the limits of machine and man
Race back to the farm to dream with my uncle at the fireside
The scented country air, sunlight on chrome
Mechanical music, adrenaline surge
Down in his barn, my uncle preserved for me an old machine
I spin around with shrieking tires to run the deadly race
Laughing out loud with fear and hope I've got a desperate plan
Songwriters: Geddy Lee, Alex Lifeson, Neil Peart
Well-weathered leather, hot metal and oil
He says it used to be a farm before the Motor Law
The blur of the landscape, every nerve aware
Run like the wind as excitement shivers up and down my spine
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