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rude boys

rude boys

Roadmaster

The wild rude boys

With the big, big toys

They wanna adventure their lives

At home children and wives

The machines gonna run

In the downsizing sun

Feeling free

They only wanna be

 

Hard and strong

On the way along

Hills and trees

Mountains and seas

They wanna be real men

They hate fear and sin

Like outlaws they look

And they took

Their one bible

And wear their own tribal

 

They are born for MC

And they ever flee

With the sound like a bang

They run with a gang

Clothed in metal and leather

Riding in each weather

Wind, snow and storm

If it’s cold or warm

It doesn’t matter

Hard riding is better

Then sitting in an office or store

They want all and more

And nothing else

They’ve got shells

 

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