Jerry

My great open days, without a care, make sense of me you say, yes, go on, watch me prance, you know about mares, but you've never made beds, you smoke in the haze, crumple Florentina’s on a chair, under a broad brimmed hat, a white faced chancer, you breathe in thin air, shout mas vino, clap, are my legs to your taste, you’re such a flirt, the words comes in phrases, I wonder at your balance, you haven’t a prayer, being chained to this dancer, others glare.