A 10-speed Magpie

Living on the Edge

Gi’me that there old ten-speed—

Don’t need 15, and 7 ain’t enough.

Gi’me one o' them springy seats, too—

Don’t want t' wreck the plumbin'.

Got smooth shifters, does she?

And brakes that work, si’vu play—

I ain’t no dang Lance Armstrong,

And this sure as hell ain’t France.

Gonna need knobby dirt tires—

Them thin racers is too wimpy

For these here rough roads—

And one of them water bottles.

Reckon I’ll take that air pump,

And one of them cable locks—

Don’t pay t' take no chances,

What with th' zombies and all.

Huh? Oh, nuthin’…just mutterin’...

Yeah, I’ll take one o' them hats, too.

Put it all on this here Visa card—

I’ll pay it off next month, I reckon…

Me? Yeah, I'm used t' th' desert—

Been livin' on th' edge for years...

Where to? Don't know just yet—

Gotta get outa this phone booth.

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