A G# A G#  

              A
1. Well it starts as a joke
             B
   Like a stick in your spokes
                                  A
   Or removing the bolt of the brakes
   
              A
   Then the bicycle flips
              B
   Crushing ribs smashing hips
                                    A
   And he broke every bone in his face

A G# A G#
   
2. Then you're out of control
   And you can't fill the hole
   That was left by the thrill of the chase
   
   You're a right piece of work
   All the flakes go berserk
   Have you forgotten how good they taste

          F
R: You're my kind of guy
           C
   Cos I like your style
              E                  Ami
   And you sound as horrible as me
                 F              C
   And I don't mind if you're unkind
      E
   You're reminding me of me

3. As the bicycle race
   Gathers speed, gathers pace
   And you feel that you're going too fast
   
   There's a word to the wise
   You should take some advice
   Cos the nice guys always finish last

R: You're my kind of guy... (2x)