They’re going to **** you she said.
They are coming at dawn.
You best dress to impress, she said with a yawn
And who was I,
to deny those who know better,
who am I to fetter.
So the windsor,
choked high,
She rolled her eyes,
those colors don’t match,
a disappointed sigh,
I can’t be caught dead,
in such retched attire,
but a man such as I
can't afford better,
so we sat for a while,
until the light bathed my face,
I couldn’t smile,
wouldn’t die in style.