When I look upon her,
What should I see?
A woman, a lady,
Or a two-bit sex machine?
You know, just like they teach on prime time TV,
And at the movies, on the big screen;
An object to fill your every sickened vice
That’s deep inside man’s repulsive twisted mind.
Someone to bow upon their knees,
To suck and lick as she pleases her king,
Just as society teaches us upon the silver screen;
The fifty shades of filth,
As they try to soften the obscene.
It is twisted and sick;
Moral’s filled with wickedness;
It is godless, hell bent,
Leading to a deadly eternal abyss.
These ladies are your mothers,
Your wives, your brides,
Your sisters, your daughters,
Not your goddamn device
To use and abuse as you see fit.
They are to be loved as a bride,
As a beautiful wife,
As a partner for life,
As a love that is met,
Sitting with you side by side —
In honor, and held high.
They are to be the apple of your eye;
Not something that is eaten once in spite,
Spit out and left to dry
Like a piece of trash that Hollywood
So sets the visions within your mind.
It is time to reset,
Readjust your compass in life,
And look upon a woman with love,
Not wicked sensual lust.
They are your bride, your wife,
A gift to be cherished for the rest of your life:
Not a passing moment in time
To fill your goddamn sexual appetite,
Regardless of what the industry tells you — they lie.
Women are not for your appetite.