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Well it starts as a joke, Like a stick in the
spokes, Or removing a bolt from the brakes,
Then a bicycle flips, Crushing ribs smashing
hips, And he broke every bone in his face,
Then you're out of control, And you can't fill
the hole, That was left by the thrill of the
chase, You're a right piece of work, All the
flakes go berserk, Have you forgotten how
good they taste?

Ref:
You're my kind of guy, Cos I
like your style, And you sound as horrible as
me, And I don't mind if you're unkind, You're
reminding me of me

As the bicycle race,
Gathers speed, gathers pace, And you feel that
you're going too fast, There's a word to the
wise, You should take some advice, Cos
the nice guys always finish last

Ref:
You're my kind of guy, Cos I
like your style, And you sound as horrible as
me, And I don't mind if you're unkind, You're
reminding me of me,You're my
kind of guy, Cos I like your style, And you
sound as horrible as me, And heads will roll,
As it takes it's toll on you and me

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