Off he goes
1, 2, 1, 2...know a man, his face seems pulled and tenselike he's riding on a motorbike in the strongest windsso i approach with tactsuggest that he should relaxbut he's always moving much too fastsaid he'll see me on the flipsideon this trip he's taken for a ridehe's been taking too much onthere he goes with his perfectly unkept clothesthere he goes...he's yet to come backbut i've seen his pictureit doesn't look the same up on the rackwe go way backi wonder about his insidesits like his thoughts are too big for his sizehe's been taken... where, i don't know?off he goes with his perfectly unkept hopeand there he goes...and now i rub my eyes, for he has returnedseems my preconceptions are what should have been burnedfor he still smiles...and he's still strongnothing's changed, but the surrounding bullshit that has grownand now he's homeand we're laughing like we always didmy same old, same old frienduntil a quarter-to-teni saw the strain creep inhe seems distracted and i know just what is gonna happen nextbefore his first stephe's off again