Bicycle

Oh pedaling is hard, move fast as I can go
The basket of my bicycle is hangin' low
It’s filled with things that I am bringing to your house
You said some strange things on the phone
I wanna know what they’re about
When I get there you are done
Your things in boxes on your lawn
And all the books you ever read, are stacked upon your steps
Instead of in your room and all your shoes
Are strung out on your neighbor’s fence
Among all this I find a note addressed to me, it says:
«I'm leaving this place; not by choice it’s my fate
I don’t wanna hurt you, not tryin' to desert you
Some people just weren’t cut out for this race.»
Get back on my bicycle, I’m moving slow
Never thought I’d realize the type of things I’ve come to know
Some people just weren’t cut out for this type of life
To end up like their fathers with a house, a dog, two kids, a wife
The pressures of society are bound to get to you
I guess I’ll have to let him go
Oh I guess I’ll cut him loose
Ooohhh