Broken bicycles, old busted chains.
Rusted handlebars out in the rain.
Somebody must have an old finish for
these things that nobody wants anymore.
September's reminding July
time to be saying goodbye.
Summer has gone but our love will remain
like old broken bicycles left out in the rain.
Broken bicycles; don't tell my folks.
Two hearts like playing cards pinned to the spokes.
Laid out like skeletons out on the lawn.
One wheel won't turn and the other has gone.
The seasons can turn on a dime.
Why do I forget every time?
These things you've given me
they always will stay.
They're broken, but I'll never
throw them away.
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