Griddle screams at four a.m.
Coffee burns the porcelain rim
Snow piles up on the cobblestone
Where he parked his steel alone
I watch him lean on frozen brick
His chain lets out a tired click
Salt eats the chrome on every spoke
He rides no more since ice has spoke
Wool cap pulled low past both his ears
Fingers turning blue from shifting gears
Breath hangs like steam off bacon fat
Imagine that, imagine that
I watch him lean on frozen brick
His chain lets out a tired click
Salt eats the chrome on every spoke
He rides no more since ice has spoke
Frame turns orange by the bike rack
No one ever cuts the poor guy slack
Tires sag like week-old pizza dough
I know it cause I watch them go
Regulars bet on when he'll ride
I take the over, mostly pride
Some things were never built for salt
Some stories end without a halt
Plow buries him in white paste
Lock froze up three long weeks past
I slide a plate through window glass
He shakes his head, lets moments pass
I watch him lean on frozen brick
His chain lets out a tired click
Salt eats the chrome on every spoke
He rides no more since ice has spoke
Spring thaw reveals a ruined frame
No rider left to claim the name
Just rust and spokes in melting slush
I wipe my hands, don't make a fuss
I watch him lean on frozen brick
His chain lets out a tired click
Salt eats the chrome on every spoke
He rides no more since ice has spoke
[Outro
