Salty tears I cried for you
And from your lips perfume I drew
But my stare is not aimed at your face
Your ovaries are eyeballs all filled with mace
Your lipstick issues a trembling glow
With a needle and vulva your lips I sew
To close the door to the future race
You need to suffer and be chaste
Someday I'll find a husband for you
Then I'll rip those threads and melt that glue
Your lips will scream, your eyes will spark
But until then your womb stays dark
Your internal organs will only know
If bloody discharge and poisons flow
If I could write a song that k**ed
I'd aim it at any man whose semen spilled
Into your womb without my approval
This song would serve as his removal
From the pleasures of love and penetration
And whose intentions aren't in raising future generations
d**h to those who don't bring life
They don't understand the purpose of a wife
If her belly fills with blood and pus
And bloats in grease with flies and rust
And larvae eggs course through her veins
With demons steaming in her brains
And menstrual venom hungry to eat
Her body filled with rotting meat
Maybe then I'll open the ancestral pipes
To the garden of fruit by now too ripe
I'll marry her off to some fine pilgrim
They'll settle down and raise some children
And at season's end when she's had enough
I'll take pine needles and sew her back up
When man's honor is tested his face turns red
And anger fights off his sense of dread
And when his spirit has been shamed
There's always a convenient woman to blame
Pain conquers fear so man takes aim
And fires the arrows until his woman is slain
And now that his honor is restored he screams
"f** you, dead c*nt, go to hell and reign."
If this song could k** slowly let it create a new disease
That would enter the bloodstream, it would clutch and would seize
The heart of man's pride would be drained with ease
And would choke the life of anyone who would write poems such as these
Except of course for the likes of me