Blue Jeans

Blue jeans, white shirt,

walked into the room

you know you made my eyes burn.

It was like James Dean,

f or sure.

Your so fresh to death and

sick as ca-cancer.

You were sort of punk rock

I grew up on hip hop,

you fit me better than my favorite sweater.

And I know… that love is mean,

love hurts.

But I still remember that day

we met in December.

Oh Baby,

I will love you

till the end of time,

I would wait a million years…

Promise you will remember you are mine.




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