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