| Well it starts as a joke
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| Like a stick in your spokes
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| Or removing the bolt of the brakes
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| Then the bicycle flips
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| Crushing ribs smashing hips
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| And he broke every bone in his face
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| Now you’re out of control
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| And you can’t fill the hole
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| That was left by the thrill of the chase
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| You’re a right piece of work
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| All the flakes go berserk
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| Have you forgotten how good they taste
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| You’re my kind of guy
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| Cos I like your style
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| And you sound as horrible as me And I don’t mind if you’re unkind
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| Cos you’re reminding me of me
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| As the bicycle race
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| Gathers speed, gathers pace
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| And you feel that you’re going too fast
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| Theres a word to the wise
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| You should take some advice
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| As the nice guys always finish last
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| You’re my kind of guy
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| Cos I like your style
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| And you sound as horrible as me And I don’t mind if you’re unkind
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| Cos you’re reminding me of me
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| You’re my kind of guy
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| Cos I like your style
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| You sound as horrible as me And heads will roll
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| As it takes its toll
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| On you and me |