On a good day,
Adorned with skimpy clothes
should bring creases to his forehead,
No longer a little girl carried high on his neck
On a good day,
She should have brought out her maternal claws,
Tearing out the offending garments,
On a good day,
I should have been warned
of my blossoming rounded cherries,
Competing with mother's sagging papaya,
On a good day,
He shouldn't be leering at me
with slimy, oily looks,
After hard labour in his equally oily shop
On a good day,
He shouldn't be here under the secrecy of the night,
Large, rough hands fondling down south,
Jacking away my innocence,
as he does his inflated tires
On a good day,
She shouldn't have protected his name,
"it's not heard of" she sneered,
Her precious second chance at Love is not to blame,
Her "evil seductress" of a child is
On a good day,
I wouldn't be going on a short long journey
Which requires just six feet,
Her songs of regret a blanket of discomfort in my cold grave
On a good day,
The only song worth singing now is silence!
