It's true I am part western I love boots and hats. I like denim and the taste of beer.
I enjoy the smell of leather, I like the sound of the guitar sofly strumming in my ear.
It's true I am part northern. I like to be on top. I like to dig my heels in a bit and hold on tight of a bronco. I like to tilt my head way back and wave my hat with all my might.
It's true, I am part southern. I like to kick, pick and grin and stomp.
Saloons doors swing open to me when I take my mustang out for a romp.
It's true I am part eastern. I like old beat up trucks and guys who can sing out of tune. I like the feel of swimming holes cold in the hot summer month of June.
I like to sit and fish then just throw them back to swim free. I roam like a tumbleweed then journey on toward the sea.
But what I what most is to find another north for my north, my south, my east and my west. I have looked in vain for one but none can read a simple map quest.
Is there a boy for me, a boy who is as sharp as a whip, who can dance with me and leave me breathless leaning me into a dip?
He must caring, but also daring for I like to live on the edge. Can he hold me never scold me when I tip toe on a ledge.
Can he drive me down anywhere streets deep into the night. Can he trust us to not crash when we slowly turn off the light?