| The crown of the kingdom is given to the woman
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| The kingdom of the kitchen where she says she shouldn’t
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| There on the stainless steel her cigarettes and matches
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| Whistles to the radio to every hook she catches
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| But the frowns
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| Eider downs
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| Tie her down
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| But she likes to wear the crown of the kingdom
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| She like the recipes a touch of oriental
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| Steaming up the windows burning egg on metal
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| Sees in a catalogue a shiny new appliance
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| Another role swallowed by the wonders of science
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| Lobster hands
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| Omelette pans
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| Understand
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| How the crown can stick like jam in her kingdom
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| He’s been so busy and she’s been neglected
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| The problem is computed and always it’s rejected
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| Out of her heart I catch a spark
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| And being smart
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| The crown is left out in the dark now there’s no kingdom
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| Fed up with the glory she abdicates her title
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| Sitting at a bar stool she gives her day’s recital
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| The family watch in horror
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| As she staggers up the hallway
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| Makes herself a sandwich
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| As they’re looking through the doorway
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| She goes to bed
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| Leg by leg
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| Nothing’s said
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| There’s no crown upon her head there’s no kingdom
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| Press the button on the toaster
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| It’s a woman’s world
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| Tuck the sheets in on the bed
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| It’s a woman’s world
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| Take your apron from your holster
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| It’s a woman’s world
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| Shoot the crown off of your head
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| It’s a woman’s world |