Hide Your Daughters Songtext
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Where do you find the most perverts?
Hidden behind three degrees,
apparently asexual, teachers, scientists, left-wingers.
Every glance cast upon them emasculates
For the mere thought would have never even crossed your mind,
"him?"
Believe it or not
-but it isn't because he doesn't get any.
If you were to graph this phenomenon:
Hidden behind three degrees,
apparently asexual, teachers, scientists, left-wingers.
Every glance cast upon them emasculates
For the mere thought would have never even crossed your mind,
"him?"
Believe it or not
-but it isn't because he doesn't get any.
If you were to graph this phenomenon:
"X" being "proximity to temporality."
The right extreme reserved for those rare moments of total understanding.
The left for nine innings at season seats
with a pocket screen simultaneously reporting how the giants are doing.
"Y" being "sexual need" (again, not "amount gotten").
You could watch the line shoot up
almost a perfect 45 degree angle.
Passing "fear of sex",
passing "monogamy",
passing "true players."
By the time we're in a stone's throw of the underpopulated,
wild and dangerous Right Frontier.
We're talking about not just fucking but deceiving.
Cumming inside
not to humiliate but to leave a trail of little bastards
across a globe that may too soon never ever remember you were here.
And then it all stops abruptly,
straight down 90 degrees to 0 -
the line where for brief moments
(for no one can actually maintain a life there)
everything becomes painfully clear -
it leaves you completely, not a drop left.
And where you once saw cream
is now just a filthy residue unhygienically oozing,
for here it is unfortunately apparent that the chubby cheeks,
baby blue eyes, and fragile skin of even an infinite number of newborns
are not you.
Cannot be you.
Will never be you.
The right extreme reserved for those rare moments of total understanding.
The left for nine innings at season seats
with a pocket screen simultaneously reporting how the giants are doing.
"Y" being "sexual need" (again, not "amount gotten").
You could watch the line shoot up
almost a perfect 45 degree angle.
Passing "fear of sex",
passing "monogamy",
passing "true players."
By the time we're in a stone's throw of the underpopulated,
wild and dangerous Right Frontier.
We're talking about not just fucking but deceiving.
Cumming inside
not to humiliate but to leave a trail of little bastards
across a globe that may too soon never ever remember you were here.
And then it all stops abruptly,
straight down 90 degrees to 0 -
the line where for brief moments
(for no one can actually maintain a life there)
everything becomes painfully clear -
it leaves you completely, not a drop left.
And where you once saw cream
is now just a filthy residue unhygienically oozing,
for here it is unfortunately apparent that the chubby cheeks,
baby blue eyes, and fragile skin of even an infinite number of newborns
are not you.
Cannot be you.
Will never be you.
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