My Life is a Broken Bicycle

indulge this old easy rider
outside Boots to rust in peace,
until the young men with the bin vans
bring merciful release

my life is a broken bicycle
my life is a broken bike
my life is a broken bicycle
take that in a any way you like

one time you know I was a boy racer,
a dream beneath the christmas tree,
gay boys in tank-tops and grey shorts
came running round to see;
I raced round the block against tricycles,
my pace was much acclaimed;
sunday service with spanners,
bright blue metallic paint;

but now as I soak in a puddle,
my racing days are gone:
spokes in a bit of a muddle,
handle-bars completely mangled,
my brakes a broken dream
(my life is but a broken…)

now you will find me by moonlight,
marooned by the motorway,
left out on a lonely hillside
I dream of the milky way;

sometimes I'm at home in the park pond,
dissolved each passing day:
my wife is a melting icicle!
my wife is a melting icicle!
take that in a any way you like…

now I'm confused with a trolley
where half a brolly lives without care,
there do I crouch in the holly
with one welly the worst for wear...