Saturday, 22 February 2014

February 22: On yer bike mate ...


The Hotel Continental displays its fiery neon lights
While traffic fights for access across the plaza every night
Motorbikes and taxis, like a wax works on the move
I’m channeling the Angels but with a different kind of groove

A vulnerable cyclist winds his way across the square
Looking all around him so he doesn’t get a scare
When a bustling forty seater chooses not to stop on red
If amber’s the new green at home, over here it's full ahead

Road rules here are optional, it’s your choice which you choose
On two wheels your life's in your hands, come off, you cop the bruise
Left and right around they go, it’s random I do swear
Chaos is too kind a word, it's going every where

A Mercedes, its left indicator, pulsating in the night
Caused a serious kerfuffle when it turned sharply to the right
The old bloke on the moped had flashes of his next life
The young man on the crossing reached desperately for his wife

No one has died within our view since we landed in this place
Not one bike crash have we seen as they vie for the smallest space
I checked my travel insurance, I’m going bungee jumping at night
That’s okay, it’s safe they say, but you can’t ride a motorbike

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