| I’m sitting on the saddle of my motorcycle
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| Kicking up the gravel that’ll poke your eyeball
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| Making roads though only sidewards
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| Go to the right 'til I pwn my rivals
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| My bike can fly, I’m rising skyward
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| You wouldn’t like to try this but I would
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| Go higher, no wires
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| 'Til my bones are broke like plywood
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| Two wheels and a health care policy
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| When I ride, there’s a health scare, honestly
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| With the hospital costs that I’ve got
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| Every Third World debt could be dropped and forgot
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| Look, chum, between me and you (yeah?)
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| There must be an easier route (yeah!)
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| But if I took a bus for an easy commute (yeah?)
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| Then I wouldn’t see the scenery too
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| My team is a beat (mwah)
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| Fifty nifty people who
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| Can easily do maneuvres
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| That need to be seen to believe to be true (woo!)
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| We’ll leave it to you
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| To see a futuristic mystic misfit
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| Do the sickest fliptrick in the district (shit)
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| 'Til I break stuff like the dude that’s in Limp Bizkit (hah)
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| You’re too simplistic to risk it
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| (Hah) You could sit and sift through statistics
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| And never see another human who’s sadistic (brah)
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| Masochistic, through ballistics (bang)
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| Kick in the ignition 'til my boots are twisted (ah)
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| True persistence and brutal quickness
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| Rips through resistance of stupid nitwits
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| It’s a twist of the wrist and the gears are shifted (vroom)
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| Give me a kiss, oops, I smeared your lipstick (whoops)
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| Clearly gifted, considerably
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| We’re here to get lifted, literally
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| If you’re in my vision even peripherally
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| I’ll rip you to little pieces deliberately
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| Plenty more fish in the sea, I’m throwing nets out (splash)
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| Picking a team, only the best, wow
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| Collectively we’re going to leave you stressed out
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| 'Til evidently you gonna need a rest
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| Pow!
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| I apologise for my intrusion
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| But I want to fight with Isaac Newton (hugh)
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| When I ride my bike disproving his life’s delusion
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| I’d confuse him
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| Sir, gravity is a trite illusion
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| That tries reducing my skyward movement
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| But my conclusion is I’m going to fly
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| It’s Trials Fusion
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| I float through the air like a cloud
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| Shaped like a motorbike
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| And made from pieces of a motorbike
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| Indistinguishable in fact from an actual motorbike!
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| With me on it
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| Flying
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| Like a cloud
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| That’s shaped like a motorbike (laughs) |