Ingen hemma.

I’ve got a little black box with my rides in

Got a pouch with a CO2 pump and a tubes in
When I’m a good doll they sometimes help me to win

I got carbon cleats keepin my shoes on.
Got those swollen calf blues.
Got thirty nine chainrings of alloy on the cassette to choose from.
I’ve got electric gears
And I’ve lost all my fears.
I have amazing powers of persecution
And that is how I know
When I try to get through
On the telephone to you
There’ll be nobody home.

I’ve got wild staring eyes.
And I’ve got a strong urge to ride
But I got nowhere to ride to

ride to

ride to

ride to

Ooooh, babe when I pick up the phone

There is still nobody home.