I hear what they say about me,
they say I collect puppies.
Meh, it could be worse.
I could actually believe
that the hunt is all that matters.
I could get upset when them girls close the windows,
they don’t want me runnin’ with their boys no more,
when them boys get uptight when they read the wrong sign
about this business be closed or open,
when they call my only friends puppies.
It don’t heat me none.
But a lot of the world’s missin’ a beautiful thing:
when a woman can rest her head
on the shoulder of a man
and he ain’t a puppy
and she ain’t afraid
and it’s nothin’ else,
nothin’ to read.
I could live a full life like that.
Hear ’em talk I’m the only one,
and maybe that’s why it looks
the way it does.