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For our hallowed Nurburgring we give praise...
In my distress I called to the Nürburgring, and it answered me. From the depths of the gravel I called for help, and it listened to my cry.
You hurled me into the straight, into the very heart of Dottinger hohe, and the turbulence swirled about me; all the wings and diffusers swept it over me.
I said, 'I have been banished from your pit; yet I will look again toward your pit crew.'
The engulfing competition threatened me, the V12s surrounded me; Gran Turismo was branded around my helmet.
To the roots of Kallenhard I sank down; the rumble strips beneath barred me in forever. But you brought my life up from the curb, O Kaz my LORD.
"When my fuel was ebbing away, I remembered you, LORD, and my prayer rose to you, to your holy pit garage.
"Those who cling to worthless tunes forfeit the grace that could be theirs.
But I, with a song of tyre squeal, will sacrifice to you. What I have vowed I will make fast. Salvation comes from the LORD."
In my distress I called to the Nürburgring, and it answered me. From the depths of the gravel I called for help, and it listened to my cry.
You hurled me into the straight, into the very heart of Dottinger hohe, and the turbulence swirled about me; all the wings and diffusers swept it over me.
I said, 'I have been banished from your pit; yet I will look again toward your pit crew.'
The engulfing competition threatened me, the V12s surrounded me; Gran Turismo was branded around my helmet.
To the roots of Kallenhard I sank down; the rumble strips beneath barred me in forever. But you brought my life up from the curb, O Kaz my LORD.
"When my fuel was ebbing away, I remembered you, LORD, and my prayer rose to you, to your holy pit garage.
"Those who cling to worthless tunes forfeit the grace that could be theirs.
But I, with a song of tyre squeal, will sacrifice to you. What I have vowed I will make fast. Salvation comes from the LORD."
Book of Chicane. 0-60.
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