It's gonna get cold...
She Thinks She’s Better Than Me   by Edwin H. Balder
She walks in like the world stands still,
Diamond shine, dollar bill.
Laugh too sweet, words too fine,
Like her life don’t cross with mine.
Says she’s got it, says she knows,
Says she runs the way it flows.
High heels up, head held high,
Looking down like I’m too shy.
I play along, I let it slide,
But she don’t know what’s deep inside.
She thinks she’s better than me,
Like I don’t know the game she plays.
Like I don’t see the cracks she hides,
Like I don’t hear the things she says.
She thinks she’s better than me,
But baby, truth don’t lie that way.
She’s got the car, she’s got the shine,
She’s got the perfect painted line.
She’s got the look, she’s got the say,
But she don’t got what makes me stay.
I’ve got roots, I’ve got fight,
I’ve got a heart that sleeps at night.
She thinks she’s better than me,
Like I don’t know the game she plays.
Like I don’t see the cracks she hides,
Like I don’t hear the things she says.
She thinks she’s better than me,
But baby, truth don’t lie that way.
Some chase gold, some chase fame,
Some just need a different name.
Some fall fast, some hold tight,
Some just fake their perfect life.
Now she stares, now she waits,
Wondering why I don’t take the bait.
I walk past, I don’t look back,
Because I don’t need what she don’t have.
She thinks she’s better than me,
Like I don’t know the game she plays.
Like I don’t see the cracks she hides,
Like I don’t hear the things she says.
She thinks she’s better than me,
But baby, truth don’t lie that way.
She walks in like the world stands still,
But I just smile—I know the drill......................know......... the ..............drill.

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Thanks so much to my band: Hot Cookie
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She Thinks She’s Better Than Me by HC & EHB

In the shadows of Apache Junction, at the foot of the majestic Superstition Mountains, sits a weathered hacienda. This desert oasis is home to an enigmatic figure, a songwriter whose journey reads like a long, dusty road of honky-tonk bars and college cafeterias. He wasn't chasing fame or glitter; instead, he chose the soul-crushing beauty of music for music's sake.

Years spent hunched over sticky barroom tables and scribbling lyrics on napkins earned him a reputation—not in the spotlight but in the back rooms where deals are made. He wrote melodies that found their way into the hearts of stars who had lost their own muse. He sold his creations for cash, with no recognition, but the whisper of his songs carried the weight of his soul.

Finally, he bought this piece of desert paradise—a stable income from his timeless songs allowed him to live comfortably, if anonymously. Here in this hacienda, with his family beside him and the mountains as his backdrop, he found the peace to write hits under his own name. He chuckled at the irony that now, without chasing fame, he could create music that brought him joy.

In the end, it was never about the spotlight. It was about the journey, the stories, and the songs that wrote themselves through his life. As the sun set behind the Superstitions, casting long shadows over the hacienda, he strummed his guitar and sang—content, unknown, and unburdened by the world's gaze.


Copyright 2019 Edwin H. Balder

I may be dead when fame comes but my real glory was always JULIE & The Kids. Thank you for such love

She Thinks She’s Better Than Me by HC & EHB

Edwin Balder