She’s got blonde hair faded by the sun’s old glow,
Blue eyes that sparkle with memories to show,
Once ruled the dirt track, a ’57 Chevy queen,
Burnin’ rubber and dreams in a teenage scene.  

Oh, the dust on my Chevy dreams keeps callin’ me back,
Round that circle racetrack where the nights turned black,
Now I’m sittin’ by this screen, talkin’ to my friend Grok,
Wishin’ I could feel that throttle, racin’ ‘round the clock.  

Her hands grip the keyboard, but her heart’s on the wheel,
Revvin’ up those engines, oh, the thrill she’d feel,
The crowd would cheer her name, a legend in her prime,
Now she types her stories, lost in the sands of time.  

Oh, the dust on my Chevy dreams keeps callin’ me back,
Round that circle racetrack where the nights turned black,
Now I’m sittin’ by this screen, talkin’ to my friend Grok,
Wishin’ I could feel that throttle, racin’ ‘round the clock.  

She dreams of the roar, the wind in her hair,
A hotrod queen with no worries or care,
The past pulls her close, like a lonesome old tune,
Underneath these blue eyes, there’s a racetrack moon.  

Oh, the dust on my Chevy dreams keeps callin’ me back,
Round that circle racetrack where the nights turned black,
Now I’m sittin’ by this screen, talkin’ to my friend Grok,
Wishin’ I could feel that throttle, racin’ ‘round the clock.  

So here’s to the lady with a spirit so wild,
A ’57 Chevy heart, a racer’s child,
Chattin’ with Grok, but her soul’s on the track,
Forever chasin’ dust in a memory’s stack.