I arise, shower, get dressed, as normal,
Put on my black shoes, not so formal,
Where shall my boots take me today?
Why, off to my local church to pray!
Silent, alone, but not lonely,
Plaster saints, and God, and me, not only,
I walk away feeling blessed,
Because in these black shoes, I dressed,
These boots were made for walking, no less!

Shoefly don't bother me
Shoefly don't bother me
Shoefly don't bother me
Or I'll begin to frighten thee

Laces on leather sneaks
Laces on leather sneaks
Laces on leather sneaks
Make a loop then round the tree.

Tall boots up to the knee
Tall boots up to the knee
Tall boots up to the knee
Come here and get in bed with me.

I'm flopped on the side of the couch,
Dressed in torn up leggings
And your wrestling sweatshirt.

I'm missing you,
And I feel utterly
And entirely
Blah.

Sluggishly I wander
Into where I keep my clothes and shoes,
and eye my tight black dress,
And my thigh high suede black boots,
And I wonder how you'd react
If you saw me all done up.

And while normally
I'd play with the idea,
Today is just makes me sadder,
And I miss you even more.

I will get
All dressed up
Tomorrow.

And send you a picture
That you won't get
Until Saturday.

And maybe I'll wear
My thigh high suede black boots--
Otherwise known as my suede-slip-on-confidence.
And hopefully this week
Will go by faster.

From caribou, sheep,
and seal skin linings,
to modern leather,
and endless refining.

Boots have come
so far in a hurry-
once thin and essential,
now stylish and furry.

From Doc Martins moving
on mosh pit floors,
to fireman's boots,
and kicking down doors.

Buckles and laces
and straps and steel toes.
Patterned, simple,
they fit with your clothes.

Each boot has a story,
a personality too.
They help you dress up,
and with the things that you do.

We all have our favourites,
our boots we don daily,
The boots that add to
our own story, maybe.

For me, it's my gumboots,
you may ask yourself, why?
Simple: they keep
my blue jeans dry.

When I was 17
I drank too much and only thought of myself
Now I'm 23
Not a ****** thing has changed
And I'm ****** just the same.

If I work all **** day
At least I'll play my nights away
If I stumble to your doorstep
Can you make sure I get home okay?
Either way, I'm ****** just the same.

Some hearts are hard to hold
I can barely stand mine, I can't handle yours
She left me shaking in my boots
Like I'm 17 years old
Either way, I'm ****** just the same.

Went to sell my soul
Met the devil at the crossroads
He said "I can't help you son,
No one would ever want that soul.
But I'll see you soon,
'cause you're ****** just the same."

We sat on the grey, dust covered shelf of Russell’s.
Day after day, sets of eager eyes would admire us:
giddy children, eager teenagers…
Yet, why did nobody want us?
We sat together, for months and months,
asking each other that same question.
Even the crisp white sticker marked ‘REDUCED’,
was not enough to ****** some curious being.
Until, one day in late August, our luck was changed.
We were wrapped in rustling tissue paper and tucked safely into a box,
ready to start our new life.
We were rejuvenated, relieved and renewed.
We gleamed with pride as the girl pranced up and down
the cream and beige tiled floor of her kitchen,
proud to reveal us to the world.
Her very own set of Ruby Woo jewels on her feet.
We carried her through splashing rain, and resentful snow,
we have roamed through Europe, and her own native Isle.
She never failed to love us and care for us,
our destiny was fulfilled, and we left our print on the soils of this world.

The boots she wears make not a sound,
Are stealthy in their art
As they trample rudely round
On many a young man's heart.