Dust off the old paperback
Pick out the finest detail
Her hair
Her hands
The way she understands
Her power
Pixie faced and white clothed hands
A parasol to shade her
Corset bound and never a frown
The way man created
Oh no! a revolution
Born again, as ten thousand men
And I'm falling behind
Feel the weight
Of modern hate
With each tiny step
Oh no! a revolution
Curses on purses of featherweight
There's something on you I should hate
Oh no! a revolution