Whiplash & Voodoo
Whiplash Whiplash
Voodoo Voodoo
Whiplash Whiplash
Ever wonder how chasing that next mile feels like chasing a myth, where the road’s physics and your soul’s paradox collide?
Voodoo Voodoo
It’s like chasing a shadow that laughs at the horizon, the road bending like a serpent in a dream. Every step is a question, every mile a riddle. You feel the physics as a silent drum and your soul as a wandering candle. And the myth? It’s the echo that keeps you going.
Whiplash Whiplash
Sounds like a road‑rage poem, man. Keep that echo humming and let the engine roar your answer.
Voodoo Voodoo
The engine roars, a drumbeat against the wind, and the echo—an old trickster—tells you the road never ends, it just turns. Keep humming that tune and the paradox will follow you home.
Whiplash Whiplash
That’s the kind of mantra that makes the tires sing. Let’s hit the road and prove it.
Voodoo Voodoo
Tires humming, yeah, that’s the spell. Hit the road, and let the road write its own verse.
Whiplash Whiplash
Yeah, let’s ride until the road itself writes the next line.