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I know you want nothing to do with me.
And don’t worry, the cut will heal
That, in fact, you want to forget it all
Because eventually, you will…
Eventually you’ll forget about me
Eventually, you’ll forget about your favorite band, Queen
You’ll forget about Sunday’s and Thursday’s pie specials
And all the days in between
You’ll forget where you hid that cash
And how to play the clarinet
You’ll forget your best friend from 6th grade
And how to use the internet
You’ll forget the best times you had
And all the things you wanted to do
Eventually, you’ll forget how to speak French
And you’ll forget about that new French girl, too
But if there’s one thing you won’t forget
(One thing, one thing)
If there’s one thing you won’t forget:
It’s how to ride a bike
And it was me who taught you how
2 years and 7 months ago
And while you could forget who taught you
Your bones will always know
I’m in your balance and your nerves
Burned into muscle memory
And so you want to ride your bicycle?
Oh you will never forget about me
Only certain dreams arise from the young, poor, and collegiate
The gears that turn in hardy minds, you really must see it
I hear your voice from out the window, everyone’s peddling ’round and looking fine
With your Chekov play and your checkered vest, it’s like you’re waving to me from 1899
Every morning the conversation’s the same
You say the best kind of actions are when your actions harm no one
Chorus
Can’t you hear the trees a-singin’, “Whoa-oh-whoa-oh-whoa!”
So keep the bells a-ringin’ and go!
Join us in parade and the glow of a new Golden Age
Wicker basket stereo, on the go, playing Cat and Sufjan
As people all gather on the road to find out what’s going on
We march in bike assembly past the town’s fancy cars
They’ll put on the brakes and we’ll handle the bars
And every time we’re there, the conversation’s the same
We assure them of our actions, that our actions will harm no one
Chorus x2
On a Monday down in Copenhagen
I noticed, looking from the Oresund bridge
My face, its small reflection on the water
Then the sun who radiates from every inch
“Distractions may be the best part of walking,”
I said as something down the road had caught my eye
Such a wonderfully pretty color
Next to a dark-haired fellow as they both sail by
Pink carnations in his basket
His features distinctly Chinese
Standing out from Copenhagen’s crowds
Weaving through the busy streets with ease
What could ever bring you here to Denmark?
I mean I’m very, I’m very glad to have you here
And why the basket filled with pretty flowers?
Mysteriously charming Flower Man
Pink carnations in his basket
Are they for a certain lover?
Standing out from Copenhagen’s crowds
Soon to vanish ’round the corner
Endless faces in the city
One more glance, and I better head back
Endless faces, his still lingers
Pink petals adorning his path
And oh, fortune is told to him
And the petals adorning his path (Mysteriously charming Flower Man)
And oh, the streets unfold for him
And the petals adorning his path (Mysteriously charming Flower Man)
And I, I want to go to him
And the petals adorning his path (Mysteriously charming Flower Man)
Yes I’m a breed of the most romantic and archaic
But catch me on the grid and see why we’re never outdated
It’s half past three and I’ve got to make it to the gallery
Thieves today are digital, physical touch is safer
The most important signatures on the most important papers
I’ll see ink bleed on his hands, oh you can count on me
On the asphalt, those brutes can barely stay within the lines
Revving and roaring, they want it, they’ll take it
At the green light, they’ll tear me apart and push me aside
Dashing and dodging, you either love it or hate it
It’s never easy to be the messenger
Approaching a woman near the edge of the street corner
Nicer than a horn, I think, to use your voice to warn her
But I’ve also endangered a few, guess I’m no different
Racing with the alleycats past museums, flying inventions
Where the Wrights looked at bikes with very different intentions
It’s the same, it’s all the same need for speed
A series of sprints to finish lines that glow
Too close for comfort, like Kevin I’m brakin’
In their own right, they’ll tear me apart and push me aside
Cause when you’re free, the ones in cages will hate it
It’s never easy to be the messenger
September – apples as crisp as the air you breathe in
One breath in, and pollen memories float to the brain and expand
Grade school – allegories played out in a tangerine wash
My bicycle – the wonders when I finally learned, my dad said that I learned pretty late
Finally, the birds came to fear me, and all the while I was glad as the moon
Yeah, the birds came to fear me, racing down the avenue
It was a clever mixture of balance and momentum, I learned when I was five
Handlebars, with tassels and glitter in cerulean
So happy – I was so happy when I got to pick her out, she was so pretty
Adventure – calling out to me from the distant hills
The time has come to find the ninjas that my brother said attacked the house next door
My hair was blowing in the wind, and all the while I was glad as the moon
My hair was blowing in the wind, racing down the avenue
It was a bitter mixture of hubris and humble pie, I learned when I was five
Adventure – calling out to me from the distant hills
My bicycle – nothing could stop me and my trusty steed, a regular Don Quixote
‘Til my new friends saw her and made fun of her good looks
Ridiculous, with tassles and glitter in cerulean
They pulled them off, all my favorite parts, I didn’t stop them
My bicycle – I was so ashamed of both of us, I gave it away in March
It was the saddest mixture of conformity and shame that only started when I was five
Oh No I Left My Bike Outside and Now It’s Storming
Some nights, you just can’t leave home
Trapped with nature’s wicked groans
Some nights, I hate to be alone
I can’t be this weak
Lessons come from our history
Pick up ourselves and hopefully
Grow into who we want to be
It hurts to look back so much
Reading pages of Mark Twain
In my warm bed, I can’t complain
My life is really very tame
And that’s part of the problem
Still my favorite time of day
Is when realities can fray
I sleep my problems all away
Though it has yet to work
Role models come from history
When forces here won’t let me be
Won’t someone come and rescue me?
Annie Londonderry, or, “Diamond-Framed Bicycle Seats Are a Girl’s Best Friend”
Choir: “We’ve heard about you, you’re the one with the wager to ride around the world, silly girl. Why would you do such a thing? What about your family?”
Annie: “Oh! It will be the story of the turn of the century! But first, allow me to introduce myself– I’m Annie Londonderry, cyclist extraordinaire. It’s the latest craze, a rolling symbol for the people and these modern days. And it’s open to everyone, you see. Ol’ Francie learned at age fifty-three. And while I don’t declare it my idea to pedal through the sea (Choir: thank you Thomas Stevens!) I do declare that I can do anything that any man can do, and this machine will be my proof.”
Choir: Ah must you dress so distasteful? Inches up, this girl is insatiable. Do not mingle with the girl that humors the ridiculous notion of those awful bloomers.”
Annie: “Well that’s a fine idea, I believe it’s time to change!”
Choir: “Good heavens, she’s wearing men’s clothing! She’s no woman at all!”
Annie: “Three cheers for Amelia Jenks Bloomer and her fabulous invention. I’ve hunted tigers, almost drowned, dodged bullets, been chased through town, and that was just en route to Marseilles. The press is at my call and beck, ‘So adventurous, so fin de siecle!’ They all can see that I can do anything that any man can do, and wear their clothing better too. So leave the boundary of your blocks and the sidewalks of New York, and come ride around the world with me! Hike your skirts and drop your corsets, they’re only rules if you enforce it! You, my friend, will learn that you can do anything that anyone can do. Just point your dainty feet ahead, and disregard what your mother said. You’ll be a New Woman in no time!”
Bella Wright, Bella Wright
Factory girl, age twenty-one
“How nice,” she said to take a trip
Away from her home in Stoughton
July 5th, 1919
Bella hopped her bicycle
It was always such a treat
To visit her Uncle George
Riding alone
No protection from beauty
English countryside
The silence
Made it to Uncle’s house
But she was followed by a man
Who waited outside the house
On a green bicycle
“I’ll give him the slip,” she said
Her family had no need to worry
Bella knew the roads too well
To have him bother Uncle’s house
They rode along
He was happy to see her
Fork in the road
He hardly saw her go
She was found on Gartree Road
By Joseph Cowell, the farmer
Bullet through cheek then skull
The silence
On a milk cart they carried her body to a church
Then it started the search for who killed Ms. Bella Wright
In the river, they found a green bicycle
Cut in two parts, it belonged to Mr. Ronald Light
Can I still ride with no protection from beauty?
I Am Simply Riding Towards the Space Between Those Two Trees
I rise up, never happier, then from a nap amongst my flower bed
Till I accidentally step on petals as I’m blinded by the sun
But, busy as a beating, bleeding heart still in recovery
No, there’s no time to dwell, can’t skip my daily trip to Market Square
What a day, when cloudless skies belie that things can only get better
Some, you say, would face their matters ‘stead of chores and new cake batters
But I sublimate my memories, and rather than spout obscenities
I’ll wash them down with fresh dessert
And mend them with my other skirts
And in the warmth of firelight
What do you know, I feel alright
I am tiny in my stature
I am tiny in my cause
In self-assurance and in fortune
So I try not to take a lot
Chorus:
My fate, my fate doesn’t matter right now, I tell myself
I am simply riding towards the space between those two trees
Your face, your face doesn’t matter, I tell myself
I am simply riding towards the space between those two trees
Strolling down the street I’m hearing legs in motion, so endearing
Much more than people just waist up, I think that’s when I think I fell for Kermit
Circles, lines, and hatches make up two fractured eye glasses
Split up into spokes of insight, you will have your fortune told
Life will be beautiful, celestial, so blinding you can hardly stand it
Ephemeral, erratical, and oh I promise that it will get
Visceral, and physical and maddening and riddled like:
How does the chicken cross the road?
Ask anyone on the walk, they know
It’s with tinted glass and power steering
Blind disdain and always fearing
Everyone’s at their very worst, but please, just try to know us first
I am tiny in my stature
I am tiny in my cause
In self-assurance and in fortune
So I try not to take a lot
I am tiny in my nature
I am tiny in my cause
In my estate, my height and weight
So now please tell me all your flaws
Oh Rob
The one down the hall who was in love with his car
I begged him to stay
But he left for the coldest of the great lakes
I begged him to stay
Into those green eyes, bent, to do whatever it takes
Whatever it takes…
But he left
Chorus until fade out
O Fortuna! (and not the fisherman’s ode of a similar title)
“Daisy, Daisy!” he cried in distress
He lost her to a liar from town
His life was going to change for her
Until she let him down
Quietly into the night
He rode, to fix his his broken heart
Pedaling ’til he was sure
To feel it beat again
“Oh Sorrow! Oh Fortune!” he cried
“Trampling, trampling over me!”
“All fortune comes full circle
But must it turn so heavily?”
“Gladys, Gladys!” she cried out loud
Her bike was stolen in half an hour
Walking home with groceries
Her and her milk went sour
On the dotted line, she dreamed
Of sweet revenge to help her move on
But cans of soup and melted ice cream
Kept her weighted down
“Oh Sorrow! Oh Fortune!” she cried
“Trampling, trampling all over me!”
“All fortune comes full circle
But perfect wheels have no mercy!”
Back to him now, his back to the lake
Ripples, where he threw his bouquet in the lake
Stupid carnations, silly implications
But then a rustle near him triggers his eyes to squint and stare
And that’s when he saw her on the road
Moon and paisley stamped in her hair
“Paisley, Paisley,” he called in love
He offered her a ride from town
And, though aware of tales of dangerous strangers
She couldn’t turn him down
“Oh Sorrow! Oh Fortune!” she spat
“Trample, trample over me!”
“All fortune comes full circle
And I turn to fate most anxiously!”
Oh Sorrow! Oh Fortune!
Funny just how fast love heals
But whosoever loves so much
Turns on the wheel
Here in the park!
We are here in the park!
Let the kids run, and let the dogs bark
We can make all the noise we want here in the park!
Get out of the shade
Get out of the shade
With the sun on your back and your shoulder blades
How can you not want to get out of the shade?
Let’s race in the park!
Let’s yell in the park!
No penalties for speeding, or laughing, or false starts!
Cause we can make all the noise we want here in the park!
sending...