All I see
Is the same balding men
The same crooked grins
The same graying beards
The same evil sins.
Telling the woman
They couldn’t sell themselves to buy
That her nose is aloof
Or her legs should be slender
Her face is pleasant
But her voice isn’t tender.
It’s the same white-haired men
With the same hoarse voice
With the same ego lessons
On how the man has the choice.
It’s the same fifty-year-old man
Acting as though he’s fifteen
Teaching fifteen-year-old boys
That the women are keen
They come running, so don’t be afraid.
But then, how come you sleep night after night
Without your own
willing maid?