Ride f*cking free, forty below,
it's the car that kills the punk.
Pedal for momentum, feel the f*cking vibe,
blaze through traffic, burn the red, push my luck.
There's not much I need, I ride a single speed,
my toque and mitts protect me from the freeze.
Hadron Collision.
I'm ripping through a cloud of exhaust.
A f*cking conniption,
in their cages on wheels they f*cking rot.
And I might be trapped in a world going backwards
but nothing's in vain -
right now I'm happy just to clog up your lane.
There's not much I need, I'll leave you with your greed
to wallow in your shit 'til you can't breathe.
A head-on collision,
a species that's lost all control.
We'll learn by extinction:
we don't need all that shit we've been sold.
And we might be headed to the brink of disaster
but nothing's in vain -
right now I'm happy just to clog up your lane.
If all that I can do
is just stay on the move,
keep a few cents from your grasp -
that's all I need to prove.
I'll see you on the bus. It's the car that kills the
punk.