Fifteen years old with time on my hands, thought I'd take you up on a dare.
To Marlboro Country, that's where I went. Tried to ride your wicked, black mare.
By the time I had met you, you had been through all my friends.
But I was your baby chick; they had been a "bunch of hens."
The first time you kissed my virgin lips, your breath like raisins so sweet.
You sparked my heart, I inhaled you whole. I had hungered but now felt complete.
You solemnly pledged, "'Till death do us part." We were happy, at least for awhile.
But you slowly tightened your grip 'round my throat. As I choked, I caught your smile.
You're a vulture in waiting, the grim reaper of time.
Though a prisoner of this addiction, I've committed no crime.
And now, handsome cowboy, this charade has proved a curse.
Lest I free from your embrace, I'll soon be leaving in a hearse.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment