I knew the shredder   when he used to hang at the park   in the late afternoon   I never talked to him   I only watched while he tear   Turns out the ground   or whatever's around   All his wheels would slide out   but he'd stay cool   I knew the guy that they once   called the shredder it's true      and I watched the day fade   on the ramp that we made   and I asked myself   where should I go now   A new wave has dawned   and the novelty's gone   so I'm told   and what kind of turn   would I now need to learn   to keep up when I'm feeling   so slowed down   I might feel better   if I knew the shredder felt old      but I see the sunset   on the lump that I get   in my throat   that I get when I try to tell   A story it grows    like a parking lot goes on the ground   And if the shredder's still shredding   I feel like forgetting   I ate his dust long ago   He may remember   but somehow I doubt   that he knows