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 good-bye.

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;
Well, the things that you've given me
Will always stay
They're broken, but I'll never throw them away

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