A motor

A cycle

A sicle

A pickle

I may sound fickle

I just want to ride my motorsicle

Where the rubber meets the road

Two wheels spoked

A idle heart

Set forth in accelerated  motion by the rolling rist of devotion

You have to take your soul for a ride

Occasionally hug the tank and take her to a 105

If you use the metric system

I just don't know

The idle heart

Sometimes

Just needs to get up

And go