Broken bicycles,

Old busted chains,

With busted handle bars

Out in the rain.

Somebody must

Have an orphanage for

All these things that nobody

Wants any more

September's reminding July

It's time to be saying good-bye.



Summer is gone,

Our love will remain.

Like old broken bicycles

Out in the rain.



Broken Bicycles,

Don't tell my folks;

There's all those playing cards

Pinned to the spokes,

Laid down like skeletons

out on the lawn.

The wheels won't turn

When the other has gone.

The seasons can turn on a dime,

Somehow I forget every time;

For all the things that you've given me

Will always stay

Broken, but I'll never throw them away