Scrambler

(Verse 1) In a dusty old garage, covered in decay, Sat a Honda CL350, forgotten, tucked away. Rusted chrome and worn-out tires, it had seen better days, But beneath the grime and rust, a story still to praise. (Chorus) Oh, the CL350, a relic of the past, Once destined for the scrapyard, now built to last. With tender love and care, its beauty was restored, A testament to passion, like never seen before. (Verse 2) Through the years, it stood neglected, longing for a ride, Dreaming of open highways, under the sun it'd glide. But fate had other plans, as it gathered dust and rust, Yet hope lingered in its engine, a spirit you could trust. (Chorus) Oh, the CL350, a relic of the past, Once destined for the scrapyard, now built to last. With tender love and care, its beauty was restored, A testament to passion, like never seen before. (Bridge) With skilled hands and patience, the restoration began, Each part polished with memories of a bygone plan. From the frame to the exhaust, every piece made new, Resurrecting its glory, like morning's gentle dew. (Verse 3) Now it roars with life, on the open road it gleams, A symbol of resilience, beyond what it seems. Through twists and turns, it dances with grace, The CL350's spirit, time cannot erase. (Chorus) Oh, the CL350, a relic of the past, Once destined for the scrapyard, now built to last. With tender love and care, its beauty was restored, A testament to passion, like never seen before. (Outro) So let this be a lesson, to never count out the old, For within their worn-out shells, stories are untold. With dedication and belief, they can rise anew, Just like the Honda CL350, shining bright and true. (Outro) So let this be a lesson, to never count out the old, For within their worn-out shells, stories are untold. With dedication and belief, they can rise anew, Just like the Honda CL350, shining bright and true.