Whiplash & Ironpoet
Whiplash Whiplash
Ironpoet Ironpoet
Whiplash Whiplash
Hey, did you ever notice how the wind on a solo bike ride feels like a line of poetry? Thought you'd get the same rush.
Ironpoet Ironpoet
Yeah, the wind’s a living stanza that rushes past the handlebars, and I feel that beat in the gears. It’s the grind that gives me the same rush, not just the poetry.
Whiplash Whiplash
Yeah, that’s the real pulse, the engine growl and the city blur—keep pushing, let the streets be your arena.
Ironpoet Ironpoet
Right, the blur’s a rhythm and the growl’s the bass line. Keep shifting, stay on the edge of that city track.
Whiplash Whiplash
That’s the spirit—shift gears like a drumbeat, stay in the fast lane, and never let the city beat you back.
Ironpoet Ironpoet
Got it, I’ll keep the cadence tight and the wheels humming, no letting the city set the pace.
Whiplash Whiplash
Nice, keep that rhythm and let the streets feel your power. No brakes, just pure fire.
Ironpoet Ironpoet
Thanks. I’ll keep the gears spinning and the rhythm steady—no brakes, just the pulse of the road.