I can see him now, standing on a street corner

Pastel shades and a candy stripe parallel

Good time love, oh that I'd been much older

Go messing with the boys from the incrowd

But all I could do was wish them farewell



What's that strange music

What's that fully rhythm

They call it Blue Beat, but you can call it young love

You can call it tamla dream

Down at your local Motown machine

I need to be loved

Down at your Twisted Wheel



And I can see that little stage

All the hands up in the air

Bombers and blues gonna see us through

Got my new lime suit mohair

With a single vent sixteen inch

Got my two-stroke wheels outside

We only need the High Numbers now

And anything on stateside

Down at your Twisted Wheel