Who Are You To Say
Good girls don’t.
Well who are you to say?
Donning shredded fish nets,
kissing with dark lipstick,
she’ll say what’s on her mind.
Clearly she’s a bit scholastic,
putting her nose in the issues
after removing it from a book.
Who are you to say what
good girls do?
A scream as she spits gum out,
running until there’s nothing left;
in the end crying herself to sleep.
Who are you to say what
good girls do?
On a mission to sit for a while
yet always yanked up by her hair,
A sure sign no one else is there.
The haute spark of a trendsetter,
talking smack without a word.
Her wretched stack is everywhere.
Good girls don’t.
Well who are you to say?
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