Know a man, his face seemed pulled and tense
Like he's riding, on a motorbike in the strongest winds
So I approach with tact, suggest that he should relax
But he's always moving much too fast
Said he'll see me on the flipside
On this trip he's taken for a ride
He's been taking too much on
There he goes with his perfectly unkept clothes
There he goes
He's yet to come back, but I've seen his picture
It doesn't look the same up on the rack
We go way back
And I wonder bout his insides
Its like his...
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