Protest the Hero Follow

Do you remember how it was when you bled?

When you loved and burned in those flames that you've kept

Because Vesta's long been sleeping

And now you've come to accept that

Your anatomy defines more than a few of the gaping holes in our social fabric

More than a few one night stands, more than a few prison bars melted into wedding bands

We've made you all the peasants and we've made ourselves the kings

Our queens are still subordinate as an angel without wings

We make it easy to belong which means it's easy to be wrong

"Put some plastic in your tits, and you'd look better as a blonde"

I remember when you were hopeful

And you never thought your life would be lived inside a coffin

With a moral sacrifice and a million social obligations, labels and expectations

You were young and modern seventeen in vogue and vague pursuit of a cosmopolitan dream

When you bled on the bed as you fed those expectations as a whore and not a human

You embraced with hesitation the parameters of all you can be

Not a mother, not an aunt, not a sister who's not subdued

Because dignity's not physical and your flesh means more than you

Your flesh means more than you; your flesh means more than you

Your flesh means more than you; your flesh means more than you

I know we'll wake up one day with a gun to the back of our brains

You'll be asking for your rib and I'll smile and call you brave

Maybe someday when this bloody skull has dried I'll know our city is in ruins

When our greatest source of pride is a monument of dicks and ribs and gender crowns we wore

Where underneath, a plaque will read, "No woman is a whore"