Caught up in a pretty boy strut, the ****** walks disjointed.
Stepping on a cigarette ****, an attitudes anointed.
With each pace, he sheds his skin.
Every passing face, mocks him through a grin.

In a time when gender can be reversed.
And prejudices against it have been immersed.
Is it not fair to believe,
That a change in colour is not beyond reprieve.

If a man can become a lass,
Surely the ****** too should get a free pass