Be talking all about the camp as if their bike is gonna rust
 If they don't begin to pedal  'cause if the rain hits the metal
 The parts that are wet'll corrode if the drops settle
 But there's no rain falling from the pink and orange sky
 Turning blue twilight   but panic is the highlight
 On the six o'clock broadcast   an everyday nailfile
 Picks the lock and now the big chains get sawed past!
 And I'm a no-helmet-wearing member of the Tour De France
 Bike race .. and the cop at the border wants
 To see my passport photo .. to make a copy
 For me to autograph, and my bike is a jalopy
 So I can't see myself winning, and I decide to
 Pace myself from the begining; I'm not rushin'(Russian)
 I'm not a German Nazi, I look to the sky and see stars
 Like the paparazzi... I concentrate on the
 Campground; I can't see the big and yellow dashes
 In the middle of the road because it's covered in ashes
 Two inches deep, making for treacherous conditions
 Poor visibility and rising suspicions
 I know I'm not in hell, I don't hear the sounds of G-funk
 But I'm trying to get my bicycle past a fallen tree trunk
 That's blocking the road off, barricade fashion
 My legs are getting tired and some other guys are crashing
 Because of the ashes and there's a long way to go, still...
 I can't believe how dark it is...
 There's a whole lot of hills and sharp corners to navigate, and
 Vampires, in the distance I can see the campfires
 There's probably only two miles left to reach the destination
 According to my estimation
 I can't be getting lazy, organizers may be spying
 As I get a little closer, I can hear the babies crying
 I've got loose teeth and skid marks but
 Those thoughts diminish as I cross the finish