Tom Waits - BROKEN BICYCLES

Broken bicycles, old busted chains,
With rusted 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 goodbye;
Summer is gone, but 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.