
I have a Stetson. I bought it in Albuquerque while I was visiting my baby-doll in Santa Fe. I had fake snakeskin boots, blue jeans and a Stetson hat, and I felt like a real man. I stood up straight and, although I could take any man down, I was polite and charming. I belonged in that hat, in those boots, with that big sky stretched out above me and True Love Ways on the car stereo. I didn’t need any of you, I was complete.