ALL this fussing, for no good how, and all necessary cussing can make a woman wild with a percussing vow!
Prologue
Eyes follow you to the light spot jackets rustling laugh or two, a stomach knot, shoes scuffling tables clank and clot. šØ
Verse 1
A dark little arrangement
Singing in a hollow dive
Manners are on the song list
On stage and in life will deprive
Highlights and low lights ambience of well-spoken jive
āCause the world doesnāt always know what to do with me.
Chorus
Too deep for shallow waters
Too wise for surface talk
Too attuned to the unseen
To keep on that walk
Lady- like, Lady- Like, Lady-Like Composure
Verse 2
A dark little arrangement
Chasing the run in your stocking
Legs like fancy folded napkins
Donāt come easy when the old self dies
Pretending to be solid not wise
āCause the world doesnāt always what to make of me.
Bridge
Longing for my place to be
When all along Mother Earth
Born, already gave me the key
But, the world does not always know what to do with me
But, the world does not always know what to do with me.
Verse 3
Too deep for shallow waters
Too wise for surface talk
Too attuned to the unseen
Misunderstood by the ones that mock
Lady- like, Lady- Like, Lady-Like composure.
Verse 4
A dark little arrangement
Singing in a hollow dive
Keeping my voice in the background, quiet
No more guessing that lie
I know the depths of my riot
No matter if the world doesnāt know what to make of me.
Chorus
Too deep for shallow waters
Too wise for surface talk
Too attuned to the unseen
Misunderstood by the ones that squawk
Lady-like, Lady-like, Lady-like composer
Composure, Composure, Composer, Composure
Lady-Like, Lady-like, Lady-Like me!
The traverse up to the stage, is where a strange corruption tries to bend you. A red carpet of sorts, and all the while the integrity lies within us to make that walk transformative or swamp. Life is a comedic stage in tragic stages.
US women, we have a lot to CUSS ABOUT!
So here we are, doing our work and still no matter how many pickets weāre still fighting our way. Slapping the hands that grope. Letting go of the rope that limits. You have your dignity, your talents, your magnificent instinctā¦so what is your stage? Fatal? Or Transforming?
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