You'd sit in my momma's kitchen

And you'd pour your wine

And I'd laugh til I thought I loved you

With your eyes like coins

With your eyes like coins and your renegade streak

You'd tell your tales, tales I never believed

Tales I now tell

Wheen things get slow around here

I'm breaking horses now

Down on Hotchkissvalley Road

You know, I've always been weak for the wild ones

With their eyes like coins

Somewhere between

The leather and the hide

The sickly sweet, the daily suicide, me

Me I ride

When things get slow around here

The tales, tales I tell

When things get slow around here

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Eric Wincentsen

267@ef.gc.maricopa.edu

Glendale Community College

Glendale, Arizona