Bet Your Jeans Poem by Harlan Lovestone

Bet your jeans
nothing here but sour cream
tables turned
in a moment you'll be burned

if it looks like im winning
im only losing
at a game
that takes abusing

oh who's sorry now?

with friends like these
called my a leper if you please
ive already died of the disease
and no venom can poison me

you say wheres my conscious
i say where is your mercy
was your love for me
a show and curtsy

oh what a worry is fame
never needed you to scream my name
have you forgotten i am to blame
so turn to houselights off

bet your jeans
sour cream, muskrats, and bean
bet your jeans
sour cream, muskrats, and bean
bet your jeans
sour cream, muskrats, and bean

Bet your jeans
nothing to wear but maybeline
and its a fiend
when it runs in streams

cause we are the losers
who are really winning
why throw the game if its just the beginning

who's sorry now
never needed blue jeans anyhow
here's a stake for you to plow
turn the headlights on

bet your jeans
sour cream, muskrats, and bean

bet your jeans
sour cream, muskrats, and bean