The Women on the Wall |
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THE WOMEN ON THE WALL words and music by Shellen Lubin I ride the grungy subway every working day From Forty—ninth to Fourteenth and back the other way And while I’m stuffed and gasping, poked and packed like a sardine I stare at poster faces, sweet and pretty, fresh and clean The women on the wall are not like the women in the car For some inexplicable reason they seem happier than we are Their make-up is just perfect, they’re all ten pounds underweight They’re lounging, drinking, laughing we’re all sweaty, tired, and late It’s hard enough to make it through the day without a fall But fro and to I’m forced to view the women on the wall I sit in one drab office just about from nine to five And when there’s no calls or typing no one cares that I’m alive So I grab six cups of coffee and pick up a magazine And there are all those faces, sweet and pretty and serene The women on the wall are not like the women at the desks They live in glossy splendor, we live under their cruel hex Their hair is soft and flowing, all it takes is one light toss They’re furred, bejeweled, and pampered we’re getting yelled at by the boss It’s hard enough to make it through the day without a rage But all day through I’m subjected to the women on the page It’s no easier at home With one man and one t.v. He ogles all the sexpots While next to him is me The women on the screen are not like the women in the beds But for some inexplicable reason they’re the dreams in some men’s head Faces and bodies perfect, a wrinkle never intrudes They’re permanently alluring we’ve got needs, demands, and moods It’s hard enough to make it through the night without a scene But look at who you compare me to The women on the page The women on the wall The women on the screen © 1984 Bondrov Music |
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