| Disc 1 | ||||||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1. |
| 4:05 | 
|
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| 2. |
| 3:12 |
|
|||
| 3. |
| 3:16 |
|
|||
| 4. |
| 4:32 |
|
|||
| 5. |
| 3:56 |
|
|||
| 6. |
| 3:50 |
|
|||
| 7. |
| 3:56 |
|
|||
| 8. |
| 3:14 |
|
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| 9. |
| 4:03 |
|
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| 10. |
| 3:14 | 
|
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|
Broken bicycles, old busted chains,
Rusted handle-bars, out in the rain. Somebody must have an orphanage for All these things tht noody wants anymore. September's reminding July. It's time to be saying goodbye. Summer is gone, our love will remain, Like old broken bicycles, out in the rain. Broken bicycles, don't tell my folks. 'Cos all those playing cards pinned to the spokes. Laid out like skeletons out on the lawn. The wheels won't turn when the other half's gone. Seasons can turn on a dime, Somehow I forget ev'ry time. For the things that you've given me Will always stay. They're broken, But I'll never throw them away. |
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