Sandra

I’m not the kind of man who buys a hooker

I’d rather read a story where the hooker kills a man

I was told once... I am no good looker

But I’ve always felt as though I could see what others can’t

Sandra in the Texas heat was sunshine

She drove up to Nevada with a heart as tough as steel

Alone I saw her packin’ up a Harley with two wheels

Next to her, a body bleeding out around her heels

We locked eyes and I said,

“Miss, I won’t tell a soul.”

She laughed and said,

“That’s easy here, this body’s gotta hole.”

“Well, I’m not like them. I’m different Sandra.”

I began to sob

She said,

“Quiet down boy. I can tell the good ones from the dogs.”

If there’s judgin’ to be done

You just better understand

Some take just enough

Some take anything they can

She said,

“My name is Sandra Lee

I brought it back from Missouri.

Grandpa born in Sicily;

He drank a bit to say the least.

Then Mama got her heart apart.

We hit he road to Dallas.

She sold her sheets for broken dreams

I picked up some bad habits.”

Then she kicked his boot

Stole his cash

A 45, his saddlebags

I’uz in shock

Standin’ there

This is what she said to me

I swear:

“Jimmy, he was out for blood.

And blood is what he got.

Never will his hands arrest

A woman for a fee.

Well, he had his last,

A big old glass,

Served by Sandra Lee.”

I was convinced

She had me sold

He deserved to go

I watched her throw her hair around

The Texas heat was so

The last thing Sandra said to me

I will not soon lose

“You never cross a lady,

If it isn’t what she chooses.”

If there’s judgin’ to be done

You just better understand

Some take just enough

Some take anything they can