If my clothes could talk, what would they say?

Would they keep all my secrets or give them away?

Would my pockets speak of loneliness, being empty all the time?

Would the seat of my pants tell you that I'm flying blind?

Would the knees of my jeans tell you I'm inclined to pray,

Especially in jail cells when I'm locked away?

Thankfully now I've left behind all the misdemeanors,

My boots now get me to the meetings, and also the cleaners.