I can see him now, standing on a street corner   Pastel shades and a candy stripe parallel   Good time love, oh that I'd been much older   Go messing with the boys from the incrowd   But all I could do was wish them farewell      What's that strange music   What's that fully rhythm   They call it blue beat, but you can call it young love   You can call it tamla dream   Down at your local motown machine   I need to be loved   Down at your twisted wheel      And I can see that little stage   All the hands up in the air   Bombers and blues gonna see us through   Got my new lime suit mohair   With a single vent sixteen inch   Got my two-stroke wheels outside   We only need the high numbers now   And anything on stateside   Down at your twisted wheel