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The Cowboy
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Only On a Sunday....
It was late
My shoes, your boots were tapping against the table
The balls were clinking
I was stripes the whole night
The Cowboy walks in
He, pays for a few drinks. He puts his
white western hat on my head
You disappear.
The Cowboy scratched the eight ball on the first shot
He loses
He fumbled his words and bowed his head and
told me I was too beautiful not to win
You returned.
You grabbed my hand and we danced to the band
It was home grown music and we were the center of attention
My shoes, your boots twirling and spinning and shaking
our asses for the old men
The Cowboy walks in
He throws me in a whirl, he had a charming way of
flashing his smile
He put his weight against me
his mouth to my neck
his tongue perverse and hot
and asked to come home with me
I pushed him back
I wanted to rip him apart
No one touches me like that
He didnt know who I was, or what I loved, or the
fact that I was thinking of someone else
I gave you the look.
You dragged me out of that bar
We told that cowboy my heart and my pants werent going
anywhere that night
And I think that goes for everyone.
