Black Lace Meets Blue Jeans

To be, or not to be, was it ever an option?
I got no black lace, bloody roses, thunder.
These blue jeans, yellow cotton, c.d. player.
I got Bill, you got Romeo, to go down under.

I was never a Juliet, I could never lie still.
If we're a duo, we're Themla and Louis.
You, Miss Louis, running, crying, loving.
Me plain old Thelma, dreaming under trees.

Something in me regrets taking the red pill
I am what I am, I gotta be what I always was.
Your sex dressed breasts, my five pound notes.
But you are the way you are, only because...