The woods are divided into eighty acre squares
A girl wears a low cut top, the room just sits and stares
Men are not hiding their testosterone away
They just sit down quietly and with their toys they play.
And the girl goes away from the room she’s in
Laughing at the men all drowned in their sin
Leaves them to drool and dream of things that will not be
Still these men covert what they cannot see.
She sits at home and thinks about the things gone before
All her friends are bitching and they’re saying, “She’s a whore!”
Yet they like her company and all still stay in touch
But she knows the truth and is finding it too much.
He has a torrid time at work and he lives alone
And he looks for that someone with whom he’ll share his home
All the girls here don’t want to be with him as such
But he knows the truth and is finding it too much.
He never has much luck round these eighty acre parts
Never passes women and succeeds to fill their hearts
He doesn’t think it’s right because he knows it’s wrong
He’s never had a girlfriend. Thirty years is just too long.
He goes to the library for a special ‘Love Tips’ book
Hopes with all his heart that it will bring him luck
There he spies her, sat across the other side of the room
Wearing a low cut top while all the men just sit and swoon.
She sees him looking on like a salivating monster
But there’s something in his eyes saying he’s the one for her
But they both think, “…doesn’t like me” and stay where they are
But unlike eighty acres, this room really isn’t far.
© Kris Blackburn 21/03/2002