Cadillac F-CK V12

 
big ol’ Country man
tailored slacks, shiny cowboy boots
(kindly ignore the bulge, Ladies)
smokes English cigarettes
but only in bed
brings his swagger & six-guns along
in the side holsters on the suicide doors

fast Detroit skin machine
cruisin’ the lost highways
run with the moon
burn down the night
all the motels & juke joints
on the American strip

that woman, that rebel-fine woman
keeps her brass balls tucked in
tight skirt & loose morals
lacy lingerie, silk stockings, pretty girl things
but don’t wear ‘em most nights

love me  she says
‘sure baby, all the way to dawn’

Cadillac waits, nervous as a wild stallion
yearning for the lonesome trails
on the road again…


(Artist unknown)