Single nation wants a fire,
Obligation in disguise,
What a liar.
When he comes he comes like thunder,
Smart-kid yuppie, not a blunder,
Ironed clothes and cocky smile,
A boy who thinks he can beguile,
With his slickness and his style,
Hands that "slip" up,
"Thing" that sticks up,
Why am I dancing with him?
He tells me to bend over more,
Put my hands on the floor,
Being sexy's now a chore,
They're looking at me differently now,
But he doesn't care.
Are the others having fun,
Or are they too pleasing everyone
But themselves, secretly wanting to run?
But, who can run in heels?