I like
my shoes; they are
the only pair
I have.
I\'ve walked miles in
them.
They have
got me around for years.
My shoes are
falling apart.
They should have
quit on me a long
time ago.
Strangely enough,
people compliment
me on them.
They don\'t see
that the soles are
worn thin, or that they
smell like cat piss and
rotting flesh.
They don\'t see the
blood stains on
the canvas and the
piece of broken glass stuck
in the heel.
Nope,
they say,
\'Nice kicks;
they look good on you.\'
I can\'t afford
another pair right now,
and even if I could,
I wouldn\'t spend
the money on them.
No, I like my
shoes, even with
all their imperfections.
They have seen
a thousand sunsets and
carried me away
from many heartbreaks.
My shoes have
run
walked
and sauntered through
snow
rain
and all kinds of shit.
My shoes have
saved me and
betrayed me.
And they have
tasted every type
of booze known
to man.
When I\'m dead and
gone
I hope someone
burns
my shoes and throws
the ashes in
that long lonesome
river, under the bridge,
where men
live and fight
and dream.