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