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Poem

You can hear the resentment in my voice 
I don't wanna be mad, but I don't have a choice
I don't have thin skin – I been rubbed raw
Blessed are the meek and the sons-in-law

All that I say, you undermine
You undercut me every time 
Now nuthin' that I say to my kids has any worth
Someday the sons-in-law shall inherit the earth 

I try, oh I try to be an attentive husband
Try to provide for my family, best I can 
Work all day, that must count for somethin'
To take my place in the back of the line of men

I say this and you say that
Well, say hello to Mr. Doormat
You can wipe your feet on me when you enter my door
Blessed are the meek and the sons-in-law

Look at us all, so desperate and sad
Having to call some dictator "Dad"
It's enough to make your sense of injustice whirl
Oh, give us your tired sons-in-law of the world

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