| Bred and wed of ruddy wretched men
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| I’ve bet you’ve got it in for them
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| Their crass, sun-tanned, uneducated hands
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| You’ve always found a place for them
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| This greedy grace that permeates girls my age
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| When I’m not ashamed to say, even
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| On our knees, it’s the sad simple dignities
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| That charm the pants off me
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| Blue blood, well hung, and just a touch too young
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| For all the gifts God’s blessed me with, she’s
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| Thick as shit, pregnant with the myth
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| Of a noble proletariat
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| As you take to task
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| This great guiltless gilded class
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| Well please don’t make me laugh, bless these
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| Men of means whose key bumps of ketamine
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| Still sweep you off your feet
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| As we have been so we will always be
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| And I gather what you think of me, so I
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| Won’t defend nor condescend
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| Just know you’ve got my sympathy |