The poor pavement is wreckin' my car
And it is causin' me road rage.
When I go out drivin', my car isn't thrivin'--
Like riding the rocky range, rocky range.

Each day I'm in it, in just a minute,
It rattles my spine,
So I have to carry lots of spare parts;
I break down all the time, all the time.

I said, this old road is full of potholes, so I bike it.
This old road is full of potholes, so I bike it, bike it, yes I do.
With bell, I bike it, I bike it, I bike it.
I said, this old potholed road was shakin' my bones free.

I have given my wife the car;
It is showin' its age,
'Cause she drives it rough, like a teenage nut--
Not bothered by the terrain. She's insane.

Yeah, on the subject of speeding cars,
We are not on the same page--
Cars are what she's likin'; I'm stickin' to bikin'
But sometimes I take the train, take the train.

I said, this old road is full of potholes, so I bike it.
This old road is full of potholes, so I bike it, bike it, yes I do.
With bell, I bike it, I bike it, I bike it.
I said, this old potholed road was shakin' my bones free.

When the handlebars twirl, I slip and fall down
And do a header into a hole in the ground.

My head, I go open-mouthed into hole and I bite it,
My head, I go open-mouthed into hole and I bite it,
My head, I go open-mouthed into hole and I bite it, then I chew
Pebbles--don't' like it, bicuspids out I spit. . . .