Women, we’re a peculiar lot
And I am talking ‘bout each one of us
We’re as shrewish as we’re catty
We’re as smart-ish as we’re batty
I think the word for it is ‘DICHOTOMOUS’
The young ones can be kinda weird
Though older ones are no less weirder
They’ll talk bold, then go coy
Fake orgasms, take your joy
I hear the words men think are ‘BLUE MURDER’
Of course, some men claim they’re wiser
And make feeble attempts to entice her
They’ll hang around, be the nice bloke
Take her to movies, laugh at her joke
I fear the words they end up with are ‘GAME OVER’.
No comments:
Post a Comment