I took my bike to work today.
Not a motorcycle, but a bike.
I thought it would be just the way
to get here and back real, real nice.

But when I went outside
to take my ride back home.
I found instead of my bike
a cut lock, all alone.

I don't know why they cut the lock.
I don't know where my bike now roams.
But I'm sad, and now I have a long walk.
And I don't really know when I'll get home.

And I really wish that someone, yes,
did not cut my lock!
Did not steal my bike!

I know that there are bike services that are used.
But they have not moved to my town.
If I could just borrow a bike
when there where so many to be found,
then it would be fine,
and a lock would surely not be cut.
And then it would be fine,
and then I would already be at home.

But there was a cut lock, yes, a cut lock.
And now all that I can do is walk, walk, walk, walk!
Still I will look in to the bike services,
because even if it's a walk,
it won't be this, this long!
I will miss my good bike.
I named that bike Bob.
But that good Bob bike will now be gone.

I will miss my bike named Bob,
and I will be so, so sad,
because now I need to inform my dad.
That Bob bike used to belong, yes, to my dad.
And he, like me, will be very sad.