I'm Game

(Thoughts on the bastard that makes fun of my cool suspenders)
We work together
Almost every day
And hate each other
In almost every way

And when we all talk
In our groups of men
Our talk goes to fighting
The how’s and the when’s

And we look at each other
With challenging eyes
But we’re both grown men
Mature and so wise

And we can’t indulge in
Those chips we are totin’
Much as we’d like to
because fighting’s verboten

But if we were outside
And he’d give me some sass
Then he’d eat his pride
While I kicked his ass