The Sun is out And the road is waiting

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


Just needs to get up

And go

◄ Throw Down Your Arms

It Is IN Us All ►


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