85 Lines (Of Love)

Shoething is a made up word...it's just a mixture of Shoes and Clothing put together...but it does mean shoes.

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"85 Lines (Of Love)"

So I guess you like me?
That's something new,
That I never knew,
That I knew About you.
I guess you talk about me all the time,
I talk about you too,
You're always on my mind,
Your mind is always inside my mind.
So my mind is always on yours?
That's crazed!
Like how you leave me dazed,
And confused,
Like How being with you,
I like a skip though daisies...
Or a walk downtown on pavement.
Pavement scraping the rubber off of the bottom of your shoes,
But the pleasant walks on pavement have to do with the shoes you choose.
Choose your shoes wisely,
Cause, it's the choosing,
Of your shoething,
That will leave you standing,
If the choosing of the shoething,
Was not a wise, shoething choosing.
We walk next to eachother,
Our hands next to, but not holding eachother,
Sometimes, brushing,
Then Lingering,
While lightly air drumming,
With our fingering.
The fingering,
Of course, leading to,
Then lingering on,
A Piano,
Writing,
a song,
Trying,
To convince me to sing.
But I'm not tricked,
Your flirtatious trickery,
Only kinda works on me.
You want me,
To start singing,
But here's what I'm saying,
You're not going to get me to sing.
Not at any hour of morning,
Nor, any hour of Noon,
And certainly not in the evening.
Your Tricky, Trickery,
Can only fool,
What one would call, a fool,
And I'm no fool,
So stop trying,
I'm not singing.
Don't look at me with that look,
Get your gorgeous blue eyes, looking in a direction they can look,
"Please?"
You plead to me,
"Please make your plea again?"
I plea inside my head,
Pleadingly, you plea again,
"Please?"
You give me that look,
"Don't look at me like that..."
I plead,
In a pleadingly plea-ful plea-ing plea,
As if on cue,
The likes of you,
Decide to stare dead at me,
I'm going to die,
Cause you're Killing me dead with your Killer-King,
Killer ways of Killing.
I'm the future Killer-Queen,
You just Don't know this Killer fact yet,
You wrap your dead opposite of dead arms around my waist,
Saying goodbye,
As your Mom's leaving with haste,
"Call me!"
You call to me,
As you walk out the door,
And you leave me
Starstruck, Un-able to breathe anymore.
This is the last thing I remember,
Whenever,
I leave you,
Or when you leave me,
whichever comes before.