Black berrys in spring
Black berrys in spring, you burst like wild fire. Some times your sweet, and sometimes you suor, the thorns on your bush turn brave men into cuorids.
Sometimes your hidden and, sometimes your near, but for the taste of your beauty, I find you with no fear.
I must compet for your love, with wild animals and bugs, when I smush with my fingers you ooze with red blood.
I pick you off the vine, weather clean or dirt, but even if your dirty, theirs no need to worry, no need for superstition, I gulp you down in a hurry, your taste is so delicious.
Every morning I awake, the though of you it vexes, your everything for me, a small country boy from texas.