Everybody accused me of being legitimate Texas since I smelled like my Texas Rose
The way her fragrant Llano rodeo ranch danced across the Hill Country sand
Time slid like bacon grease and eggs and she was hot as a baked potato
Far away I became a Texas Tin Lizard showing off my Llano Bottle Tree
I cannot bite down on a scent to test its purity or stop it the way a photo does a moment Pagán (54).
Even though I may have the crowd fooled to believe I’m from Texas the liberty is blue
The Texas Rose is my only campfire and there was a time error in my birthing era
The rougher the customers the holier the vengeance laced with a five strand barb wire fence