by Linda Bayley-Brown

Created on: January 15, 2009

The Bullet ...

I was a sixties child

That was born to be wild

Blonde hair flowing

Sixteen and growing

A rock chick bore'

And a greaser to the core

Shunning the Davidson

The Bullet was our song

Never contrite

We lived for the bike

It felt pretty cool

When you arrived at school

Swinging the Bullet into place

I'd climb aboard to ride the race

Tossing my boater to my friends

Shaking long hair out of strands

Never thought of it as bottle

As you opened up the throttle

My head resting on your back

As we flew along the track

Throttle in full we hit the ton

Speeding along into the sun

We laughed at our speed

Never taking any heed

We broke all the rules

And were called bloody fools

Yes life was oh so crazy

And not only a little hazy

But we valued others lives

And we needed no knives

Provoked we fought with our fists

The metal chains upon our wrists

Were only decoration

No degradation

Only one to stop it all

Was leader Rog the Wall

We rode the ride

And sung the song

We did no right

Never was wrong

There was no regrets

Only gang respect

I was a rock chick bore'

A greaser to the core

Young and carefree

Us three

The Bullet

You and me.

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