Sole of rubber, with suede looks
God knows the oven in the maker cooks
Steep prices, they give me looks
I hate them, for entangling me in hooks
With my mother in evening spree
In a mall we go in a group of three
As soon as I step in breezy air
The shoes in red, black, brown
Pull me in by my hair
Gas, Fila or Adidas; even Belk who's from Spain
Hatching a conspiracy to lure me in, I better run away in a Train
The lair entice with spruced price, befitting I freeze; don't budge
Help me people kick or grab; or give a strong nudge
I'll be uncouth; calling its surface not smooth
Such callous would be a mistake
Fool was I, to compare the cheeks
Of my girl's, when we had partake
Afflicted me, it has sometimes
Ah! that I don't care
If I could just buy some more
Instead stand out and stare.
[Note: 'They' are shoes.]
