Broken Bicycles (Waits Tom)

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