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1, 2, 3, 4...
Well I hate to say it, but it's time to move on.
Time to pack my things in a shiny airplane,
but my motorcycle she can't come along.
It's time to sell her it's a cryin shame.
But she can't come with me on this aeroplane.
So listen up I'm about to make you one helluva deal.
You can look me in the eye, I won't tell no lie.
If you want the truth she's long in the tooth.
But I'll be honest about the life she lived.
She never had a wash, never was garaged.
The brakes are bad and the clutch is gone.
She earned her soul on the trails of Panama.
She been kicked and dropped, leaks gas and oil.
Sprockets are gone, but the motor's still strong.
I must confess I often treated her wrong.
My misfortune is your lucky day,
cause the man who mounts up and rides her away.
Is gonna be the owner of a new fast machine.
She's my KLR got a single 650,
don't worry about the motor she's got a doohickey.
And an air filter made out of a spiders web.
Won't get ya a girl, no sex appeal.
She got a jealous streak, you need a heart of steel.
Forever alone is part of the deal.
I rode her in the streets and I rode her in the mud.
We came home whipped, beat, covered in crud.
Together we conquered Panama.
But it ain't the end for this 2 wheeled queen.
Gonna find a brand new owner for this dirty green.
This clean one owner. This fast machine.
Don't know what it says on the ODO,
But most her miles were probably off road.
The mystery is priced right into the deal.
She's got 2 bald tires and 3 broke blinkers.
Spokes are bent, and a footpeg's missin'.
And her headers almost rusted through.
She's been used abused, but she's still got some fight.
With a little love adventures in sight.
Her traveling days are far from through.
Keep the tires inflated, keep the chain adjusted,
keep the oil topped off, and hope she don't get busted.
You could go as far as Kathmandu.
Yeah I think I dropped a bolt back there.
Hand me a zip tie, and if you got a little tape I'd be much obliged.
I'm gonna get this thing going. Give me a push start.
So best of luck and happy trails,
and I hope that bike continues to sail,
over rocks and mud, on it's journey to hell.
My machine was meant to ride don't belong in no collection.
There ain't no pride in a killer 650 with dust collecting.
Best move on.
Time to hit the road and go.
Time to pack my things in a shiny aeroplane,
but my motorcycle she can't come along.
It's time to sell her what a crying shame,
but she can't come with me on this aeroplane.
So listen up and I'll make you one hell of a deal.