The Days of Yesterday
When the miles are adding up and the asphalt’s over do,
When you never slow down and just keep riding through,
When the only thing you trust glides directly below,
When you refuse to sell your soul and ride an Evo.
When you dream about the engine yelling out its one note song,
When you give up on Milwaukee, and refuse to play along,
When you’re sick of flashy colors and all the fucking chrome,
When you refuse to fit in, and you’d rather ride alone.
When you yearn for the days when America was still on top,
Before our bikes were out dated and a Harley still had a shot,
When you stop to think about what a Harley used to be,
When you refuse to eat the shit they’ve fed us since 1973.
This is when you know you are part of the select few,
Who actually ride to live, but are forced to live with the new,
The new “bikers” who accept defeat, and swim in a stagnant pool,
Because they don’t ride to live, they ride with hopes of being cool.