Once upon a time a lovely maiden did her chores
She cooked and cleaned and washed and dried and wiped down all the floors
And though her Lord looked down at her, ironically this man
Would force himself upon her because when you’re Lord you think you can
He used her for his twisted games, he thought it was alright
Sadly she just let it be, so she could feed her son at night
And so it went for years and years, till finally one day
Her son grew up and saw the truth, saying that “this man must pay”
Despite his mother’s cries and pleas, the son could not forgive
He told her she deserved much more, this was not a way to live
His mom, you see, quick to agree, would never punish him
Her heart was her worst enemy, enabling Lord to live in sin
So the son approached the man, he stood much taller than Lord did
As the Lord said “hello boy, you’ve grown so much since just a kid”
“I know,” son said, “it must be strange, to to be on the receiving end”
“Of the games you play at night, I bet your wife won’t comprehend”
“Won’t comprehend the things you do, to satisfy your appetite”
“I can’t imagine how a person does this and then sleeps at night”
“At least it doesn’t matter now, because I give what is deserved”
“What’s that,” you ask? “To be frank, I really hate to touch a nerve”
“But since we’re here I will be clear, this might begin to sting a bit”
“I’ve wanted this for oh so long, because you’re such a piece of shit”
“It’s my turn now, so turn around, this will not end quick I must say”
“This won’t be fun, and when I’m done, this broomstick will make sure you pay”
How the World Should Work 