| X chromosome
|
| It’s apparent my parents wanted a girl
|
| But they got a girlish boy
|
| Extra chromosome
|
| There’s breasts where my chest was, these pink fleshy masses
|
| Have made themselves at home
|
| Hips like my mom (hips like my mom)
|
| Equipped for a birthing yet there’s no tiny person napping behind this gut
|
| Put some sad music on
|
| Grab a book, draw a bath, spend an eve with the cats and a bottle of Sauvignon
|
| Blanc
|
| So dress me up like daughter, oh, oh, oh
|
| And talk to me like son, oh
|
| Hold my head underwater
|
| And tell me «Try and breathe»
|
| And now the lines are blurred
|
| If there’s a great overseer was he drunk at the wheel for my birth?
|
| (There's bourbon in its blood, I swear it)
|
| Were our courses predetermined
|
| Or do the pieces just lay wherever pieces may?
|
| So gamble
|
| So garnish me with lace
|
| But fill me up with dirt
|
| You stuff me like a pig
|
| And tell me not to gain
|
| So gamble on
|
| (There's more than one driver at the wheel)
|
| So is it true there’s Eve
|
| Wrapped up inside of me?
|
| So dress me up, undress me
|
| Paint my outsides like the pretty thing that I’m not |