Hello you straight-laced lady,
|
dressed in white but your shoes aren't clean.
|
Painted them up with polish
|
in the hope we can't see where you've been.
|
The smiling face that you've worn
|
to greet me rising at morning --
|
sent me out to work for my score.
|
Please me and say what it's for.
|
Give me the straight-laced promise
|
and not the pathetic lie.
|
Tie me down with your ribbons
|
and sulk when I ask you why.
|
Your Sunday paper voice cries
|
demanding truths I deny.
|
The bitter-sweet kiss you pretended
|
is offered, our affair mended.
|
Sossity: You're a woman.
|
Society: You're a woman.
|
|
All of the tears you're wasting
|
are for yourself and not for me.
|
It's sad to know you're aging
|
Sadder still to admit I'm free.
|
Your immature physical toy has grown,
|
too young to enjoy at last your straight-laced agreement:
|
woman, you were too old for me.
|
Sossity: You're a woman.
|
Society: You're a woman.
|
|
-----------------
|
Sossity: You're A Woman
|
| Jethro Tull |
