Black Boots.

 11-26-95
Black boots, blue jeans, white t-shirt,
James Dean.
Black hat, white horse,
Minus the armor,
Of course.
A stolen rose, a stolen rhyme,
It happens to me every time,
But pour the wine,
Fill my cup full,
Lie to me,
I’m gullible.
Say the things I long to hear,
Give me hope then disappear.
Deny, deny, deny, deny,
Who said those things?
Did I? Did I?
Well, listen up and dig my rap,
Let me tell you where this sharp chick is at,
I know your type; I’ve seen your kind,
You’re the guy I always find,
Creepin’ round my trellis’,
Stickin noses in my biz,
Moochin pennies, moochin dimes,
Moochin up old Paradise lines,
As if, I didn’t know the score,
As if, we’d never met before.
Black boots, blue jeans, white t-shirt,
My dreams,
Tangled  now in your ragged smile,
The greedy grin of a crocodile.
And a love that only stays awhile.


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