Three unicyclers ridin' on a narrow road,
With a bottle in each hand, no one knowin' where to go.
They ought to get a tan, 'cause their bare skin is yellow,
Rollin' on a pavement pilgrimage to find a home.
Now they'll never find a place to live, rowing on this path,
On a race to leave behind a life that's going nowhere fast.
Not meddling, but pedaling to settle down and crash,
At a pad where they can relax- I just hope the beer will last!