Playing the game,getting a laugh,
Feeling the buzz,pumping the gas,
Stealing a car, out for a spin
Racing with friends trying to win,
Tore through the streets fast as the wind,
Out of control taking the bend.
He was a joy rider,
Called him the Night Rider,
But he did not see the child,
standing in the road.
Now he\'s alone, likes it that way,
Lives on the streets day after day
Begging for bread, rain on his face,
Can\'t find a bed, out of the race.
Death in his heart,
tears in his eyes,
Drowning the pain,
hearing the cries.
He was the Night Rider,
Now he drinks cold cider,
\'cause he still sees the child,
Lying in the road.