I'm tired of this death match
fighting for my place
amongst the scattered remains
of a
thousand
broken hearts

This is not Sparta
I am no gladiator
and            you            
are
no
prize

Watching men defeat each other,
Like it's our own little Colosseum.
People pay to be up close,
To be with the winning team as they boast.

The women stand at the side,
Cheering for front line tide.
They will crash with the other team's wave,
Split the difference bets are made.

Body on body they battle each other,
Do they even know one and another?
Or do they just follow the coach's words,
"Push forward boys, make them hurl."

Game after game,
They do the same thing.
Win or lose,
They still get paid.

Paid the big bucks to put on a show,
Commercials roll on before you know.
Get you to buy, get you to watch,
Buy this ****** like Miss March.

Forty-Sixth battle same as all before.
Crowds will still cheer, the cheerleaders are all ******.
Losers will *****, and the Referee always *****.
These mindless men get paid the big bucks.