Hello you straight-laced lady, 
dressed in white but your shoes aren`t clean. 
Painted them up with polish 
in the hope we can`t see where you`ve been. 
The smiling face that you`ve worn 
to greet me rising at morning -- 
sent me out to work for my score. 
Please me and say what it`s for. 
Give me the straight-laced promise 
and not the pathetic lie. 
Tie me down with your ribbons 
and sulk when I ask you why. 
Your Sunday paper voice cries 
demanding truths I deny. 
The bitter-sweet kiss you pretended 
is offered, our affair mended. 
Sossity: You`re a woman. 
Society: You`re a woman. 
All of the tears you`re wasting 
are for yourself and not for me. 
It`s sad to know you`re aging 
Sadder still to admit I`m free. 
Your immature physical toy has grown, 
too young to enjoy at last your straight-laced agreement: 
woman, you were too old for me. 
Sossity: You`re a woman. 
Society: You`re a woman.