Bicycle

The bike, the bike, the bicycle
The epitome of machine
The machine though is simply a summation of other machines
Go ahead, take apart the bicycle
Kill it
You will only have more and smaller machines to handle
When you take the bicycle apart
When you dissect it, the lines of definition blur
You have chain oil on your hands

You can take her apart
Though I was wrong, you can’t explain her
It’s a mistake; taking her apart, that is
What a mess you’ll have
Think of the dark oil on your hands
You won’t be pleased with that

I’m sorry
I don’t want to compare you to a machine
I just like the way that sounds…machine
You’re more like Autumn
All kinds of different and strange things happening
Animals going places
Temperatures rocketing
Holidays erupting with delight
All of the obstinate colors revealing
Entirely for the sake of existing
Dramatic and lovely existence
That’s what you remind me of