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Peddling as hard and fast as I can goThe basket on my bicycle is hanging lowIt's filled with things that I am bringing to your houseYou said some strange things on the phoneI want to know what they're aboutWhen I get there you are goneYour things in boxes on your lawnAnd all the books you ever readAre stacked upon the step insteadOf in your room and all your shoes areStrung out on your neighbour's fenceAmong all this I find a note addressed to me, it says:I'm leaving this placeNot by choice it's my fateI don't want to hurt youNot trying to desert youSome people just weren't cut out for this raceGet back on my bicycleI'm moving slowI never thought I'd realize the type of things I've come to knowSome people just weren't cut out for this type of lifeTo end up like their fathersWith a house, a dog, two kids, a wifeThe pressures of society are bound to get to youI guess I'll have to let him goI guess I'll cut him loose From Letras Mania