A
mate of mine he had a fall, got belted off his bike
T-boned
a right turner, who drove wherever she liked
If
he were any closer he’d have been in her front seat
It
wasn’t really quite the way that he'd hope that they might meet
He
smashed his leg into the grill, a mash of bone and flesh
He lost
five inches of his femur, shit man, what a mess
She
didn’t look, and if she did I think she must be blind
If
I see her out on the road, I’ll be riding far behind
Four
months in a hospital, that's no way to spend your days
Another
motorcyclist downed, let’s hope the system pays
Next
time you drive, look once then twice, and then perhaps once more
You certainly don't want a Hells Angel, slamming in your door
But to my
mate Tommy Tucker, I hope you get well soon
It
could have been much worse you know, you’re not eating with a spoon
When
you get that payout, from the injuries that you copped
You
should buy yourself a Goldwing mate, a bike that can’t be topped
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