They say “cover it up now
Make it look the same as all the other manufactured bodies,
Being pumped into this assembly line world”,
But my body is not the same as those,
It is soft and made of silk in an iron factory,
And the cold metal burns my skin.
Because I have the right to bear arms but not to bare arms,
Telling me that the guns that murder are the only thing I am allowed to have,
And even though my body is hot hot hot, it will never be killer.
And you tell me that I am like the guns sitting in a shop waiting to be picked out, grabbed, paid for,
Except I'm worth less and and worthless and more disposable
Telling me I'm all hormones and whore moans
Telling me that I am yours.
But I am not yours,
I am the little schoolgirls with battery acid thrown in their faces
Touched by hands that harm not help
Ripping apart their hearts and bodies.
But I am not yours,
I am not even mine,
I am in the freedom,
And that freedom is not in your guns or your yells or your stars,
That freedom is in the plant pushing out the iron girls, girls, girls,
Pushing them out into your world
The world that belongs to you because you claim it
But you're no match for the iron girls and their metal hearts
Taking everything you have and have had
And making it theirs, theirs, theirs