Mister Smarty-Shoes,
always thinking that you can never lose.
Assuming you’re beyond paying your dues.
Presuming you can do whatever you choose.
You got the dedications after emancipation;
whatever the situation: greatness is your predication.

Mister Smarty-Shoes,
constantly singing those can’t-lose blues
in all those colorful velvet hues
committing acts that no one can excuse.
You’re the one you think that everyone’ll forgive
unaware that everything in life is terminative.

Mister Shoes-So-Smart,
acting like everything you do is art.
As if you had something worthwhile to impart
Like there’s a golden smell in your every fart
or a great end for anything you’d deign to start.
I hate to upset your applecart, sweetheart,
but you’d barely break the charts.

Oh, Mister Smarty-Shoes,
always cruising for a new way to schmooze.
I think it’s time you open up to some alternate views.
Perhaps discover folks beyond your current Who’s Whose.
It may be difficult for you to uncover
but think of all the things that you’ll discover
if you accept these cues and choose to not refuse
and become really loose
and get bruised.