We sit by the sidewalk |
we wait for my mom |
to pass the time we talk |
of some girl's message to Jon |
We talk of my boots |
we talk of a moped |
I glance up to her looks |
and the time stops dead |
I blink my eyes closed |
I open them again |
she still stands there |
she still looks the same |
My heart begins to fly |
my blood flows at a rhythm |
someone ought to die |
and so we talk of him |
I try to hide my excitement |
I try to remain calm |
I think myself an actor |
but do I show the storm? |
Her backpack small and red |
her face amazingly cute |
you'd never hear me say it |
but she even has nice boobs |
I sigh inside and stare |
at the prettiest face in school |
for me she has no care |
she cares for who are "cool" |
She looks so cute and sweet |
I'd be smitten in a second |
my heart would skip a beat |
or so I would portend |
but if she asked me out |
I'd reply with a no |
though I'm sure I'd really love it |
I just couldn't go |
for a girl with bad taste |
is no girl of mine |
I'm a sucker for a face |
but it takes more to make me smile. |
Copyright 2000 Ashi Shadow |