Testo Bicycle

Peddling as hard and fast as I can go
The basket on my bicycle is hanging low
It's filled with things that I am bringing to your house
You said some strange things on the phone
I want to know what they're about

When I get there you are gone
Your things in boxes on your lawn And all the books you ever read
Are stacked upon the step instead
Of in your room and all your shoes are
Strung out on your neighbour'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 want to hurt you
Not trying to desert you
Some people just weren't cut out for this race

Get back on my bicycle
I'm moving slow
I 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
I guess I'll cut him loose