Hello pedal, my old friend,
I've come to ride with you again,
Because a trail softly rolling,
Left it's seeds while I was sleeping,
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Within the sounds of riding.
In restless dreams I ride alone
Narrow trails of mud and stone,
'neath the halo of a street lamp,
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the gust of a head wind
That made me suck wind
And touched the sounds of riding.
And in the wooded light I saw
Ten thousand riders, maybe more.
People spinning without speaking,
People climbing without listening,
People sprinting speeds that hikers never share
And no one dare
Disturb the sounds of riding.
"fools" said i, "you do not know
Cars like a cancer grows.
Hear my words that I might teach you,
Take your bike that I might show you."
But my words like silent raindrops fell,
In the trails of riding
And the people pedaled and shifted,
To the top of the hill they climbed.
And the sun flashed out it's warning,
In the dusk that it was forming.
And the rider said, "the words of the prophets
Are written on the bike shop walls
And trail head falls."
And whisper'd in the sounds of riding.