Sophistication
They call themselves sophisticated
if they score that special hit,
if they drive a brand new Porsche,
overwhelm us with their wit.
E-mails, cell phones, always selling,
always out to merchandise,
little do they know that
I can see through their disguise.
Sophistication isn't artsy,
cravin' money, kissin' ass,
climbin' up the corporate ladder
no, I think I'll take a pass,
for there's another kind of clever,
playin' frisbee in the park,
fixin' dinner, doin' dishes,
stolen kisses in the dark.
The gentle of a special woman,
tender moments to recall,
making love and making memories,
joy and laughter through it all.
So you can keep your slick devices,
lookin' sharp no matter what,
to me sophistication's simple,
I'm content with what I've got.
Copyright © Keith Bickerstaffe | Year Posted 2008
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