Jalan Bahar, 76 km.
A returned Singaporean wants to ride
I get up early and oblige.
Not that I sleep well, bad dreams affect shut-eye.
Dark clouds float on high, so we say goodbye.
How quickly the road turns wet from dry.
At a bus stop I sit and sigh.
Grey reaches far as I see with my eye.
I ride on, with my bed I've a date.
But I soon realise, I'm 'neath the edge of the cloud.
As sudden as it hid, sunshine bursts through the grey cloud.
My drive-train is blown dry.
My tyre holds up too, on the biggest hole I'd ever patched.
Oh what a break, my skin nor my bones don't break.