My mom has an old song book from 1923, featuring this song in which the narrators muse about what the world would be like if all men were sent away. We’re laughing at how the lyrics have taken on an entirely new meaning over the years, with notable lines such as “What a queer world it would be” and “What a gay life girls would lead.”
Why yes, it would be a queer world if we took all the men and moved them far, far away to have a merry time while girls lead gay lives together. So queer. So gay.
find them digging gold from the dirt,
flinging exes like swinging axes.
they don’t give a damn who gets hurt,
their skirts are high and tight.
ask them if they’re awake and alert,
all you’ll get is escapes and excuses.
they only want to know what you’re worth,
they think they deserve a free ride.
tell them, i don’t need you stuck to me.
tell them to find somewhere else to feed.
find them boring in through the hull,
fawning fans yawning on command.
they don’t give a damn what sounds dull,
they’re bulls in china shops.
ask them if they’re flattered and full,
all you’ll get is detours and deadpans.
they only want you to join their cult,
they think they look down from the top.
wish them good luck living off somebody else.
give them long enough and they will eat themselves.
my feet have been itching for days now,
my loved ones have all up and left me,
my beatings are glitchy and too loud,
i’m stooge of the day, apparently.
everyone’s bleating like sheep and nobody will answer me,
“ask me again when i’m sober, boy.”
i’d love to love you all but my love’s spread thin, in short supply.
i’d love to live underwater because sound travels better.
don’t think my love is less for you when i don’t reply.
i’m hard of hearing underground, i wish the world was wetter.
i’ve been blathering lately i know,
my, how tall you’ve grown in the meantime,
my steps are hazardous, i’m told,
my prints are fingers in decline.
everyone’s blaring like horns and nobody knows what for,
“ask me again when you’re older, boy.”
i don’t want to be a ghost slipping love letters under doors.
i’m not abandoning my post to go fight in the molten core.
i think i have had enough expecting pigs to swallow pearls.
i want to melt into the sun and give my heat back to the world.
we got bent when we demanded what we expected.
if we pretend it’s okay, then we expect it pretended.
we said what we meant, so get it through your head.
we’ve seen how it ends, so don’t whine when you’re dead.
i’ve lost sight of the healthy parts of things,
all of the talons, none of the wings.
what was spent wasn’t as splendid as you expected?
if you extended no grace, why’d you expect it extended?
you hear what was meant, but you miss what was said.
you’ve seen all this death, but it’s all in your head.
i’ve lost control, please perform surgery,
take the tornado, leave the lightning.
the day is dry, it’s gonna damn me to drown.
i’m the son of the moon, i’m the heir to the sea.
the world is wet, it’s gonna watch us wither.
we’re the sons of the moon, we’re the heirs to the sea.
he’s gonna get the paint on him,
let it drip down and melt.
right through his pores into his skin,
like ointment for the welts.
all the bugs are bitin’,
fightin’ he’s never felt.
wounds diggin’ from within.
he’s gonna wear galactic belts,
treadin’ on trails of tin.
never been by his mama held,
not knowin’ how to spin.
playin’ the hand he’s dealt,
he’s never gonna win.
learnin’ to speak and spell.
he’s gonna get the paint on him…
i staggered to the light, a haggard little campfire.
safety in the night from the axes and the wire.
i was born unnaturally, but who are they to say?
who decides how much i love, how long i stay?
who will end my life?
lubricated the machine, a weighted noose and guillotine.
slavery is sleight of hand when the stains come off clean.
the ennui, the bourgeoisie, are they the final word?
is it so strange that this is love, is it that absurd?
how will my life end?
the woods are closing in! the sea is spilling out!
the peaks are pulling loose and kneeling devout!
the sky will cry and i will die and pry my eyes open!
i will be the only one awake, in or out of heaven!
the pounding in my head.
collapsing stereo.
a sweet but sickly scent.
we need to take it slow.
safe from the elements.
lighthouses, honeycomb.
murmurs of gold and red.
our blood is monochrome.
no one knows the cure.
i need you to grow up,
you need me to get better.
hemophilia, it’s a lover…
the ringing in my ears.
blue irises dilate.
a puzzle, turning gears.
i know it’s getting late.
let’s makeshift shelter here.
a salty aftertaste.
only mutes stand and cheer.
to hope might be a waste.
no one knows for sure.
we have a dilemma,
unexpected visitor.
synesthesia, it’s all over…
tell me one more time how you realized this
while you paint my portrait on gray canvas.
this time, for once, i don’t understand
what you’re saying with your eyes and your hands.
the light in the room is stifled by shadow.
have you ever reaped what you sow?
i don’t know.
the air in the room hangs heavy with hell.
have you ever earned what you sell?
i can’t tell.
tell me just once more how you came upon this
while you paint my profile on gray canvas.
you say you’re done, but i do not see.
the picture you’ve painted looks nothing like me.
you’ve got to be kidding me. this is so awesome.