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It's healthier to wear out many boots and few bed sheets.

Sicilian proverbs
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Handles Bermuda

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[...] Read more

poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Boots

INFANTRY COLUMNS

We're foot--slog--slog--slog--sloggin' over Africa --
Foot--foot--foot--foot--sloggin' over Africa --
(Boots--boots--boots--boots--movin' up an' down again!)
There's no discharge in the war!

Seven--six--eleven--five--nine-an'-tw enty mile to-day --
Four--eleven--seventeen--thirty-two the day before --
(Boots--boots--boots--boots--movin' up an' down again!)
There's no discharge in the war!

Don't--don't--don't--don't--look at what's in front of you.
(Boots--boots--boots--boots--movin' up an' down again);
Men--men--men--men--men go mad with watchin' em,
An' there's no discharge in the war!

Try--try--try--try--to think o' something different --
Oh--my--God--keep--me from goin' lunatic!
(Boots--boots--boots--boots--movin' up an' down again!)
There's no discharge in the war!

Count--count--count--count--the bullets in the bandoliers.
If--your--eyes--drop--they will get atop o' you!
(Boots--boots--boots--boots--movin' up an' down again) --
There's no discharge in the war!

We--can--stick--out--'unger, thirst, an' weariness,
But--not--not--not--not the chronic sight of 'em --
Boot--boots--boots--boots--movin' up an' down again,
An' there's no discharge in the war!

'Taint--so--bad--by--day because o' company,
But night--brings--long--strings--o' forty thousand million
Boots--boots--boots--boots--movin' up an' down again.
There's no discharge in the war!

I--'ave--marched--six--weeks in 'Ell an' certify
It--is--not--fire--devils, dark, or anything,
But boots--boots--boots--boots--movin' up an' down again,
An' there's no discharge in the war!

poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Luggage Canada

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[...] Read more

poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Two Little Boots

TWO little boots all rough an' wo',
Two little boots!
Laws, I's kissed 'em times befo',
Dese little boots!
Seems de toes a-peepin' thoo
Dis hyeah hole an' sayin' 'Boo!'
Evah time dey looks at you —
Dese little boots.
Membah de time he put 'em on,
Dese little boots;
Riz an' called fu' 'em by dawn,
Dese little boots;
Den he tromped de livelong day,
Laffin' in his happy way,
Evaht'ing he had to say,
'My little boots!'
Kickin' de san' de whole day long,
Dem little boots;
Good de cobblah made 'em strong,
Dem little boots!
Rocks was fu' dat baby's use,
I'on had to stan' abuse
W'en you tu'ned dese champeens loose
Dese little boots!
Ust to make de ol' cat cry,
Dese little boots;
Den you walked it mighty high,
Proud little boots!
Ahms akimbo, stan'in' wide,
Eyes a-sayin' 'Dis is pride!'
Den de manny-baby stride!
You little boots.
Somehow, you don' seem so gay,
Po' little boots,
Sence yo' ownah went erway,
Po' little boots!
Yo' bright tops don' look so red,
Dese brass tips is dull an' dead;
'Goo'-by,' whut de baby said;
Deah little boots!
Ain't you kin' o' sad yo'se'f,
You little boots?
Dis is all his mammy's lef',
Two little boots.
Sence huh baby gone an' died,
Heav'n itse'f hit seem to hide
Des a little bit inside
Two little boots.

poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Good For Freakin

Take with me a minute to freak!
We can stay together,
In unique-n' freakin'.

And we don't have to do it under sheets.
Unless the thread count of those sheets,
Soothes the shriekin'.

I love those sheets.
They're good for freakin'.
And when the count is high,
I go-oh!

I feel complete.
When freakin's over.
I roll away,
And to sleep I go-oh!

And we don't have to do it under sheets.
NO!
Unless the thread count of those sheets,
Soothes the shriekin'.

ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ahhh...
I love those sheets.
They're good for freakin'.
And when the count is high,
I go-oh!

I feel complete.
When freakin's over.
I roll away,
And to sleep I go-oh!

And we don't have to do it under sheets.
Unless the thread count of those sheets,
Soothes the shriekin'.

ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ahhh...
I love those sheets.
They're good for freakin'.
And when the count is high,
I go-oh!

And we don't have to do it under sheets.
NO!
Unless the thread count of those sheets,
Soothes the shriekin'.

I feel complete.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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You Wear It So Well

All of those things
Yeah, that you got to give
Yeah, you wear it so well
Hey, you wear it so well
All of those stories
Honey, that i know you could tell
Yeah, you wear it so well
And your face hides it so we can't tell
That you knew we would wear it so well
You wear it so well
Yeah darling, you wear it so well
(you wear it so well)
Yeah baby, you wear it so well
(you wear it so well)
Yeah now baby, you wear it so well
(you wear it so well)
Hey now darling now, yeah, you wear it so well
(you wear it so well)
All of those things
That make poets sing
You wear it so well
Yeah, you hide it so well
And all of those pain
That you used to tell
You hide it so well
Can't tell from your face that you knew it so well
Hey, now that you have such a story to tell
Yeah, you got style and grace and you wear it so well
You wear it so well
And you got, you got such a story to tell
Yeah, yeah, yeah, you wear it so well
Grace and style equals you so well
Yeah, yeah, yeah, you wear it so well, well, yeah, so well
Yeah, you wear it, wear it, wear it now, wear it now, baby
Yeah, now you wear it so well
And you got such a story to tell
(ooohhh, ooohhh, ooohhh)
(ooohhh, you wear it so well)
(you wear it so well)
(you wear it so well)

song performed by Lou Reed
Added by Lucian Velea
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Boots

I found a pair of boots upon the street
So I took them home to wear on my feet
I washed them I cleaned them and I aired them out
So I could put them all later when I would walk about.
I put my new boots on, and I walked down the road
They seemed so very sturdy to carry my heavy load
Then they took me places where I have never been
I could tell that these boots were very well broken in.
They felt so very soft and comfortable upon my feet
How excited I was for my new boots others would see.
And when I did my walk many persons just stared
As they looked at my new boots but I really never cared.
Maybe they too just wanted boots just like mine
But this one thing I knew they were hard for me to find.
I had so much fun with my brand new pair of boots
We walked everywhere they placed me in a happy mood
And the longer that I walked still no pain did I feel
I was excited and content my life became so surreal.
So it started to get late so I decided to walk home
So that's were we head just me and my boots alone
And then when I took them off I placed them beside my bed
So I could be ready for my next journey or adventure ahead.
I wore those boots of mine for many, many years
They always felt so comfortable never brought me any tears
I would wash them and clean them and polish them too
Now they were always mine and they always looked brand new.
Then one day I wore another pair of shoes when I went out
I left my old boots home alone so they could air out
So myself and my new shows were gone most of the day
As I had errands to run and also many bills to pay.
But sadly when I got home I was taken by surprise
My boots were stolen and that brought tears to my eyes
I thought to myself who would steal those old boots of mine
Boots that have been worn and used who would commit that crime.
So I went out and bought so many different pairs of shoes
And none are that old as they are all seemingly brand new
I still go for my walks and I still go to town and all about
My feet are so much happier now I myself with joy wanna shout
But every now and then I think about those boots I once wore
The ones I found on the street and I never bought in the store
I wonder now if they are ragged and torn and beyond repair
But that's someone else problem now, so why would I care.

Randy L. McClave

poem by Randy McClave
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Bed Bed Bed

The day is done
The sun is down
The curtains have been drawn
And darkness has descended over everything in town
The covers have been turned and I've got my pajamas on
I've had my fun
I've stretched and yawned and all is said and done
I'm going to bed
Bed bed bed bed bed
I've done so many things today
There's nothing left to do
I ate three meals, I rode my bike, I hung out with my friends
I did my chores, I watched TV, I practiced the guitar
I brushed my teeth, I read my book, and then I sat around
I'm going to bed
Bed bed bed bed bed
Moo
Moo
Moo
Moo
Oh it's pointless staying up for even twenty seconds more
When everything has happened and there's nothing else in store
The thing is now to lay my head down, close my eyes, and snore
And so to bed directly I go
The day is done
The sun is down
The curtains have been drawn
And darkness has descended over everything in town
The covers have been turned and I've got my pajamas on
I've had my fun
I've stretched and yawned and all is said and done
I'm going to bed
Bed bed bed bed bed
Bed
Bed bed bed bed bed
I'm going to bed
Bed bed bed bed bed bed bed bed bed

song performed by They Might Be Giants
Added by Lucian Velea
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Spanish Boots

(beck, stewart, wood)
I used to work and take a salary
In a hole up near a foundry
But it did not take me too long
To get my boots on a so long!
Long spanish boots on a so long!
I took a day job in bethlehem
I nearly threw in the towel then
But it did not take me too long
To get my boots on a so long!
High spanish boots on a so long!
Dig it
I took a spanish haberdashery
Restored with 15th century tapestry
But oh, mr. nesbitt got the best of me
So I strapped on my boots and said so long!
Laced up my high boots and so long!
Goodbye
... am on a job you see
cause my old boots they mean too much to me
Leather boots are just a mystery
Put on my boots and said so long!
High spanish boots on and so long!
Put on my boots and said so long!
Those old spanish boots
Put on my boots and said so long!
High spanish boots

song performed by Rod Stewart
Added by Lucian Velea
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Forever in Boots

Swimming costume, bib and tucker
Stonewashed jeans or three-piece suits
Never going to be, a tidy looker
I am the man, forever in boots

Funerals, parties or weddings
Working days or evening pursuits
Planting flowers in their beddings
I am the man, forever in boots

I want to be forever in boots
I wear boots on land or sea
I can be a miserable old coot
If you hide my boots from me

In the ring wearing boxing boots
On a horse in my riding boots
At the riverside in Wellington boots
Happy to be the man, forever in boots

Man forever in boots
Seeks woman, to be his puss in boots
For country hikes, in walking boots
Eternal happiness, both; forever in boots

poem by Michael Micmac Mccrory
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Who's Bed Have Your Boots Been Under

Whose bed have your boots been under?
And whose heart did you steal I wonder?
This time did it feel like thunder, baby?
Whose bed have your boots been under?
Don't look so lonely
Don't act so blue
I know I'm not the only
Girl you run to
I know about Lolita
Your little Spanish flame
I've seen you around with Rita
The redhead down the lane
Whose bed have your boots been under?
And whose heart did you steal I wonder?
This time did it feel like thunder, baby?
And who did you run to?
And whose lips have you been kissin'?
And whose ear did you make a wish in?
Is she the one that you've been missin', baby?
Well whose bed have your boots been under?
I heard you've been sneakin'
Around with Jill
And what about that weekend
With Beverly Hill
And I've seen you walkin'
With long legs Louise
And you weren't just talkin'
Last night with Denise
Whose bed have your boots been under?
And whose heart did you steal I wonder?
This time did it feel like thunder, baby?
And who did you run to?
And whose lips have you been kissin'?
And whose ear did you make a wish in?
Is she the one that you've been missin', baby?
Well whose bed have your boots been under?
Come on boots...
So next time you're lonely
Don't call on me
Try the operator
Maybe she'll be free
Whose bed have your boots been under?
And whose heart did you steal I wonder?
This time did it feel like thunder, baby?
And who did you run to?
And whose lips have you been kissin'?
And whose ear did you make a wish in?
Is she the one that you've been missin', baby?
Well whose bed have your boots been under?
I wanna know whose bed, baby

[...] Read more

song performed by Shania Twain
Added by Lucian Velea
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Between The Sheets

Hey, girl, ain't no mystery
At least as far as I can see
I wanna keep you here layin' next to me
Sharin' our love between the sheets
Ooh...baby, baby
I feel your love surrounding me
Whoa...ho...ho...ho...hoo...ooh...baby, baby
Makin' love between the sheets
Ooh, girl, let me hold you tight
And you know I'll make you feel alright
Oh, baby girl, just cling to me and let your mind be free
While makin' love between the sheets
Ooh, girl, I'll love you all night long
And I know you felt it comin' on
Ooh, darlin' just taste my love, ooh you taste so sweet
Sharin' our love between the sheets
Ooh...baby, baby
I feel your love surrounding me
Whoa...ho...ho...ho...ooh...baby, baby
We're makin' love between the sheets
Hey, girl, what's your fantasy
I'll take you there to that ecstasy
Ooh, girl, you blow my mind, I'll always be your freak
Let's make sweet love between the sheets
Ooh...baby, baby
I feel your love surrounding me
Whoa...ho...ho...ho...ooh...baby, baby
Makin' love between the sheets
Ooh...baby, baby
Feel your love surrounding me
Whoa...ho...ho...ho...ooh...baby, baby
Makin' love between the sheets
Enough of the singin', let's make love
In between the sheets
Oh, I like the way you receive me (Receive me, receive me)
Girl, I love the way you relieve me
I'm comin' on, comin' on strong (Comin' on strong)
{Sweet darlin'} In between the sheets
Oh, I like the way you receive me (Receive me, receive me)
Girl, I love the way you relieve me
Comin' on, comin' on strong (Comin' on strong)
{Sweet darlin'} In between

song performed by Isley Brothers
Added by Lucian Velea
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Chevy-Chase

The Perse owt off Northombarlonde,
And a vowe to God mayd he
That he wold hunte in the mowntayns
Off Chyviat within days thre,
In the magger of doughte Dogles,
And all that ever with him be.

The fattiste hartes in all Cheviat
He sayd he wold kyll, and cary them away:
'Be my feth,' sayd the doughteti Doglas agayn,
'I wyll let that hontyng yf that I may.

Then the Perse owt off Banborowe cam,
With him a myghtee meany,
With fifteen hondrith archares bold off blood and bone;
The wear chosen owt of shyars thre.

This begane on a Monday at morn,
In Cheviat the hyllys so he;
They chylde may rue that ys un-born,
It wos the mor pitte.

The dryvars thorowe the woodes went,
For to reas the dear;
Bomen byckarte uppone the bent
With ther browd aros cleare.

Then the wyld thorowe the woodes went,
On every syde shear;
Greahondes thorowe the grevis glent,
For to kyll thear dear.

This began in Chyviat the hyls abone,
yerly on a Monnyn-day;
Be that it drewe to the oware off none,
A hondrith fat hartes ded ther lay.

The blewe a mort uppone the bent,
The semblyde on sydis shear;
To the quyrry then the Perse went,
To se the bryttlynge off the deare.

He sayd, 'It was the Doglas promys
This day to met me hear;
But I wyste he wolde faylle, verament;'
A great oth the Perse swear.

At the laste a squyar off Northomberlonde
Lokyde at his hand full ny;
He was war a the doughetie Doglas commynge,

[...] Read more

poem by Anonymous Olde English
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Three Sheets To The Wind

Verse 1

Isn't it about time
yes, I've played this part before
I can recall each line
I'll cry out-Don't go
and you turn and walk away
I scream out-what about our yesterdays
knowing inside
this heart is going to break

Chorus

And later on
here I'll be
lonely and blue-three sheets to the wind
Tryin' to wash you out of my head and heart
with another drink
another sad song playin' on the radio
Like Remember When and Three Sheets To The Wind
three sheets to the wind

Verse 2

So you don't have to pretend
honey, it's that same old story-heard it all before
Got all the information I need
facts are so easy to see
Even a blind man would know
it ain't you and I anymore

Chorus

And later on
here I'll be
lonely and blue-three sheets to the wind
Tryin' to wash you out of my head and heart
with another drink
another sad song playin' on the radio
Like Remember When and Three Sheets To The Wind
three sheets to the wind

Verse 3

Well it's okay
had it all figured out
just a matter of time
I'll smile-laugh out loud
go on down to Mexico
lay on the shores

[...] Read more

poem by Daniel Wittfoth
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Would You Wear a Cowboy Hat for Me

Would you wear a cowboy hat for me?
Even though I know you are a big city boy
I can’t help but like those cowboy hats, you see
So would you wear a cowboy hat for me?
A ten gallon hat, yeah black, now that’s the key
Please say yes, do not be coy
So would you wear a cowboy hat for me?
Even though I know you are a big city boy

Would you wear cowboy boots for me?
Even though I know you are a big city boy
I can’t help but to like those cowboy boots, you see
So would you wear cowboy boots for me?
Rawhide leather, pointy and spurs yeah that’s the key
Please say yes, do not be coy
So would you wear cowboy boots for me?
Even though I know you are a big city boy

Would you ride a horse for me?
Even though I know you are a big city boy
I can’t help but to like horses you see
So would you ride a horse for me?
Stallion, mustang, any kind would be
Please say yes, do not be coy
So would you ride a horse for me?
Even though I know you are a big city boy

Even though you are a big city boy
You ride a horse that’s black
Wear cowboy boots and a ten gallon hat
How can it be - you are now my cowboy

poem by Anna Pacheco
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The Boss's Boots

The Shearers squint along the pens, they squint along the ‘shoots;’
The shearers squint along the board to catch the Boss’s boots;
They have no time to straighten up, they have no time to stare,
But when the Boss is looking on, they like to be aware.
The ‘rouser’ has no soul to save. Condemn the rouseabout!
And sling ’em in, and rip ’em through, and get the bell-sheep out ;
And skim it by the tips at times, or take it with the roots—
But ‘pink’ ’em nice and pretty when you see the Boss’s boots.

The shearing super sprained his foot, as bosses sometimes do—
And wore, until the shed cut out, one ‘side-spring’ and one shoe;
And though he changed his pants at times—some worn-out and some neat—
No ‘tiger’ there could possibly mistake the Boss’s feet.

The Boss affected larger boots than many Western men,
And Jim the Ringer swore the shoe was half as big again;
And tigers might have heard the boss ere any harm was done—
For when he passed it was a sort of dot and carry one.

But now there comes a picker-up who sprained his ankle, too,
And limping round the shed he found the Boss’s cast-off shoe.
He went to work, all legs and arms, as green-hand rousers will,
And never dreamed of Boss’s boots—much less of Bogan Bill.

Ye sons of sin that tramp and shear in hot and dusty scrubs,
Just keep away from ‘headin’ ’em,’ and keep away from pubs,
And keep away from handicaps—for so your sugar scoots—
And you may own a station yet and wear the Boss’s boots.

And Bogan by his mate was heard to mutter through his hair:
‘The Boss has got a rat to-day: he’s buckin’ everywhere—
‘He’s trainin’ for a bike, I think, the way he comes an’ scoots,
‘He’s like a bloomin’ cat on mud the way he shifts his boots.’

Now Bogan Bill was shearing rough and chanced to cut a teat ;
He stuck his leg in front at once, and slewed the ewe a bit;
He hurried up to get her through, when, close beside his shoot,
He saw a large and ancient shoe, in mateship with a boot.

He thought that he’d be fined all right—he couldn’t turn the ‘yoe;’
The more he wished the boss away, the more he wouldn’t go;
And Bogan swore amenfully—beneath his breath he swore—
And he was never known to ‘pink’ so prettily before.

And Bogan through his bristling scalp in his mind’s eye could trace,
The cold, sarcastic smile that lurked about the Boss’s face;
He cursed him with a silent curse in language known to few,
He cursed him from his boot right up, and then down to his shoe.

But while he shore so mighty clean, and while he screened the teat,

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Lawson
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Orlando Furioso Canto 19

ARGUMENT
Medoro, by Angelica's quaint hand,
Is healed, and weds, and bears her to Catay.
At length Marphisa, with the chosen band,
After long suffering, makes Laiazzi's bay.
Guido the savage, bondsman in the land,
Which impious women rule with civil sway,
With Marphisa strives in single fight,
And lodges her and hers at full of night.

I
By whom he is beloved can no one know,
Who on the top of Fortune's wheel is seated;
Since he, by true and faithless friends, with show
Of equal faith, in glad estate is greeted.
But, should felicity be changed to woe,
The flattering multitude is turned and fleeted!
While he who loves his master from his heart,
Even after death performs his faithful part.

II
Were the heart seen as is the outward cheer,
He who at court is held in sovereign grace,
And he that to his lord is little dear,
With parts reversed, would fill each other's place;
The humble man the greater would appear,
And he, now first, be hindmost in the race.
But be Medoro's faithful story said,
The youth who loved his lord, alive or dead.

III
The closest path, amid the forest gray,
To save himself, pursued the youth forlorn;
But all his schemes were marred by the delay
Of that sore weight upon his shoulders born.
The place he knew not, and mistook the way,
And hid himself again in sheltering thorn.
Secure and distant was his mate, that through
The greenwood shade with lighter shoulders flew.

IV
So far was Cloridan advanced before,
He heard the boy no longer in the wind;
But when he marked the absence of Medore,
It seemed as if his heart was left behind.
'Ah! how was I so negligent,' (the Moor
Exclaimed) 'so far beside myself, and blind,
That I, Medoro, should without thee fare,
Nor know when I deserted thee or where?'

[...] Read more

poem by Ludovico Ariosto
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As Ireland Wore the Green

BY RIGHT of birth in southern land I send my warning forth.
I see my country ruined by the wrongs that damned the North.
And shall I stand with fireless eyes and still and silent mouth
While Mammon builds his Londons on the fair fields of the South?

CHORUS:
O must we hide our colour
In fear of Mammon’s spleen?
Or shall we wear the bonnie blue
As Ireland wore the green?
As Ireland wore the green, my friends!
As Ireland wore the green!
Aye, we will wear our colour still,
As Ireland wore the green!

I see the shade of poverty fall on each sunny scene.
And slums and alley-ways extend where fields were evergreen.
There is a law that stamps the flower of freedom as it springs;
And this upon a soil that’s trod by prouder feet than kings’.

And must I hide my colour
In fear of Mammon’s spleen?
Or shall I wear the bonnie blue
As Ireland wore the green?
As Ireland wore the green, my friends!
As Ireland swore the green!
Aye, I will wear my colour yet,
As Ireland wore the green!

Out there beyond the lonely range our fathers toiled for years
’Neath all the hardships that beset true-hearted pioneers;
And our brave mothers journeyed there to do the work of men
On those great awful plains that were unfit for women then.

Then must we hide our colour
In fear of Mammon’s spleen?
Or shall we wear the bonnie blue
As Ireland swore the green?
As Ireland wore the green, my friends!
As Ireland wore the green!
Aye, we shall wear our colour still,
As Ireland wore the green!

O shall the fields our fathers won be yielded to the few
Who never touched the axe or spade, and hardships never knew?
Shall lordly robbers rule the land and build their mansions high,
And ladies flaunt their jewelled plumes where our brave mothers lie?

O must we hide our colour
In fear of Mammnon’s spleen?

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poem by Henry Lawson
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Metamorphoses: Book The Eleventh

HERE, while the Thracian bard's enchanting strain
Sooths beasts, and woods, and all the listn'ing
plain,
The female Bacchanals, devoutly mad,
In shaggy skins, like savage creatures, clad,
Warbling in air perceiv'd his lovely lay,
And from a rising ground beheld him play.
When one, the wildest, with dishevel'd hair,
That loosely stream'd, and ruffled in the air;
Soon as her frantick eye the lyrist spy'd,
See, see! the hater of our sex, she cry'd.
Then at his face her missive javelin sent,
Which whiz'd along, and brusht him as it went;
But the soft wreathes of ivy twisted round,
Prevent a deep impression of the wound.
Another, for a weapon, hurls a stone,
Which, by the sound subdu'd as soon as thrown,
Falls at his feet, and with a seeming sense
Implores his pardon for its late offence.
The Death of But now their frantick rage unbounded grows,
Orpheus Turns all to madness, and no measure knows:
Yet this the charms of musick might subdue,
But that, with all its charms, is conquer'd too;
In louder strains their hideous yellings rise,
And squeaking horn-pipes eccho thro' the skies,
Which, in hoarse consort with the drum, confound
The moving lyre, and ev'ry gentle sound:
Then 'twas the deafen'd stones flew on with speed,
And saw, unsooth'd, their tuneful poet bleed.
The birds, the beasts, and all the savage crew
Which the sweet lyrist to attention drew,
Now, by the female mob's more furious rage,
Are driv'n, and forc'd to quit the shady stage.
Next their fierce hands the bard himself assail,
Nor can his song against their wrath prevail:
They flock, like birds, when in a clustring flight,
By day they chase the boding fowl of night.
So crowded amphitheatres survey
The stag, to greedy dogs a future prey.
Their steely javelins, which soft curls entwine
Of budding tendrils from the leafy vine,
For sacred rites of mild religion made,
Are flung promiscuous at the poet's head.
Those clods of earth or flints discharge, and these
Hurl prickly branches sliver'd from the trees.
And, lest their passion shou'd be unsupply'd,
The rabble crew, by chance, at distance spy'd
Where oxen, straining at the heavy yoke,
The fallow'd field with slow advances broke;
Nigh which the brawny peasants dug the soil,

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poem by Ovid
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Between The Sheets

CHORUS
What was wrong with you?
What was wrong with me?
We can put it all behind
When we get between the sheets, babe
VERSE 1
Looking down at your face
You know what I'm asking for
Soft and warm in my place
Is it too much to ask for more?
CHORUS
What was wrong with you?
What was wrong with me?
We can put it all behind
When we get between the sheets, babe
What I said to you
What you said to me
We can leave it all behind
When we get between the sheets, babe
VERSE 2
Your sweet lips close to mine
I think it's time to come inside
Now here's your coat to catch the rain, baby
Don't stop until I go insane
CHORUS
What was wrong with you?
What was wrong with me?
We can put it all behind
When we get between the sheets, babe
What I said to you
What you said to me
We can leave it all behind
When we get between the sheets, babe
MIDDLE 8
You don't understand what you do to me each time we kiss
I don't think another love will ever come close to this
Let me breathe the words and make you feel a certain way tonight
Everything you say or do, baby if it's wrong it's right
You don't understand what you do to me each time we kiss
I don't think another love will ever come close to this
Let me breathe the words and make you feel a certain way tonight
Everything you say or do, baby if it's wrong it's right
CHORUS X2
What was wrong with you?
What was wrong with me?
We can put it all behind
When we get between the sheets, babe
What I said to you
What you said to me
We can leave it all behind

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song performed by 411
Added by Lucian Velea
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