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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=82893" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Shirt</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">As I walked into the charity store<br>I saw a second-hand shirt hangin up by the door<br>The collar was frayed, there was a stain on the cuff<br>Caused by ketchup or blood or some such stuff<br>It wasnt made of polyester or nylon<br>The label said made in the uk so I tried it on<br>And I looked in the mirror and declared<br>I like this shirt, I want it<br>Its not the label on the shirt that you wear<br>Its the way that you wear it<br>They say its style and breeding and culture that counts<br>But you cant change good taste on the expense account<br>And if design or fashion makes you a hero<br>You can dress all highbrow but still be an emotional zero<br>But I declare its not the shirt you wear<br>Its the way that you wear it<br>I was looking for danger, I should have taken more care<br>I was dressed to kill, I felt so debonair<br>Wild expectations, arrogant air<br>Then I walked into that bar, she was standing there<br>I walked over with all my savoir fair<br>And she said youre a smart looking dude<br>But your characters ugly, it clashes with my shoes<br>And i, I cant stand your attitude<br>I assumed it was leading to a romantic interlude<br>I thought my conquest was made<br>But I was stunned by the magnitude<br>Of her ingratitude<br>I spent a good thirty bucks on this babe<br>Like the shirt I was wearing<br>This romantic affair was not destined to last<br>The harder I tried, the louder she laughed<br>I was reduced to despair, my emotions laid bare<br>She knew I was hurt, made me feel like a jerk<br>I was humbled, humiliated, castrated<br>My masculinity dragged through the dirt<br>Then thrown in the air to be devoured by the lions<br>The vultures, the jackals and all the scavengers of love<br>I was strutting around with my chest stuck out<br>Like a peacock preparing to get laid<br>Thought I looked cool but she put me down<br>She said you look like a clown on a circus parade<br>Still the shirt has class, it looks well made<br>She was a babe of the first degree<br>She was totally fantabulous<br>Like a goddess from greece and yet<br>The epitome of the 20th century femininity<br>She was in her own league<br>She was meant for me, it was destiny<br>Like adam and eve, synchronisity<br>She brought out the testosterone in me<br>Last time I saw that babe she was smiling contentedly<br>Now Im trapped on this murder rap, a mistaken identity<br>It wasnt me, it wasnt me, it wasnt me<br>Now this cop says its up to you, death row or solitude<br>Crime of passion, you should plead insane<br>You say you wouldnt lie, but weve just blown your alibi<br>Weve found your shirt and its got a blood stain<br>It was the shirt you were wearing<br>It was the shirt you were wearing</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />song performed by by Kinks - <i><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/" target=_blank></a></i><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=82893" data-title="The Shirt" data-description="As I walked into the charity store
I saw a second-hand shirt hangin up by the door
The collar was frayed, there was a stain on the cuff
Caused by ketchup or blood or some such stuff
It wasnt made of polyester or nylon
The label said made in the uk..."></div>
</div>
</div>