She really begs a designed man,
Someone with sharp edges
With a defined shape

Chiseled near perfection,
He works his lot
He plows her fields
And speaks too clear--

Too clear for her to deny
Him his skeleton throne
He wields it like knives,
Dresses it with respect.

Here I am designing myself,
A man planning his destiny
And don't think you distracted me
When you're coaxing out the best of me.