| She comes from Kansas City, in the middle of the land
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| She was the queen of the game
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| But love never came with a man, with a man
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| Now all they know is her name
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| She’s the Kansas City Bomber, let her roll, let her roll
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| Let her fly through the fury of the race
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| The cry of the crowd is the keeper of her soul
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| You can see it by the rage upon her face
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| The blast of the whistle, the Bomber takes the floor
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| She turns, she spins on the rail
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| But she’ll be the first one to score, watch her score
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| And the board light up as she sails
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| She’s the Kansas City Bomber, let her roll, let her roll
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| Let her fly through the fury of the race, of the race
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| The cry of the crowd is the keeper of her soul
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| You can tell by the rage upon her face
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| She’s gonna leave tommorrow, she’s never coming back
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| But tommorrow is only a day
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| But now she is trapped on the track, on the track
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| And God help the lady in her way
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| She’s the Kansas City Bomber, let her roll, let her roll
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| Let her fly through the fury of the race, of the race
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| The cry of the crowd is the keeper of her soul
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| You can tell by the rage upon her face, on her face |