You just got to ride that bike

Thought that I could cause a spike
And saw a chance of praise
A chalice or a golden cup
To put on my fireplace
Pumped up the wheels so they inflate
 
looked for that thrown gauntlet
Sharpened up my pros  
Old or new give us a clue
Self belief that you ever were a poet
Ballance on the pedal, leg swung o'r the saddle
 
The prima donna and their spills
Soar in laureates, bathed in cream and milk
Unicycle on the high wire
With shelves of trophy's bowed
Is this the dreamed utopia that I could ever own
 
Wobbled, shaking knees as you set off
Down the road of your own thoughts
And know that a like or two are small lights in the dark
 Nettles of disapointment  come
Dried ink of all postponed
  
A waiting game of who will vote
An ego shrunk by the ritual voodoo comp
 So ride those potholes like a pro
 Plasters on the scrapes and bumps
Ready for another go