Bicycle bicycle bicycle
I want to ride my bicycle bicycle
Yeah
Grab a broken branch
With a sunburnt hand
In a washed up
I saw you out there
Flying through canyons
High and alone
I won't
Why now does the wind
Sound wounded and thin
It moved through
Rollin' home alone
Here we go again
As if it's not alright
As
A photo of you in a frame
And no, I will
The last thing I heard I was left for dead
I
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