Me, Trouble

Sometimes, I’m bound for Trouble,
And Trouble’s bound up with me.
She gets me, doomed and humble,
Runs down my backbone at the double,
And lugs away at breakneck speed;
And out to hell—oh, what a spree!—
Just then She spits
My poor wits,
To pieces crumbled.

Myself bad news, I look for Trouble;
I look Her damn straight in the eye,
To live or die—I’m on the bubble;
I just can’t wait, I itch to rumble,
Not gonna end it in a tie.
But there’s one thing I can’t deny—
All that aside,
Myself and I,
I’m standing trouble.