What are you thinking? What are you made of? You brush against me, it's like steel what is it, to live in a body made of granite? Your expression so down In the afternoon, come to think of it in the morning, too Why? You tell me nothing The power, you must be a blank to me I see you eye so many women Their ******* make you hot, I see in a meeting Their long hair, like your daughters When they hold it up, and sway towards you As they pontificate, arching their backs in your direction Showing you their feminine articles on their chests As your eyes zoom in You are wicked, little man You can't hide it. Never learned. Mouth moves, like a baby wanting a meal You are aging Painting your "girls" rooms While your wife wrings her hands The girls have grown and don't come home Will they come if you spackle? What drives you? Little man, with power over me I imagine, myself covered in oil Doing a dance before you Seeing what it's like to be naked for your emptiness Oh, power, that I don't have Oh, little man, that is what I want That power, not what lies behind your eyes