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