The marriage rate is going down
And many tears are falling.
The good men left and left behind
Some eyes bloodshot from bawling.
Men no longer mentor
Any women that they pay
Because they fear the power
Of what said women might say
And smart men will no longer talk
To strangers in a skirt
‘Cause they’re one false “j’accuse” away
From sleeping in the dirt.
Cats think that this circumstance
Is surely heavensent:
They live with 30-something women
Whose exes pay the rent.
Meanwhile the men rebuild themselves
From fighters into monks
And leave the chasing women
To the inner-city punks.
The West now walks on eggshells.
There is no doubt about it:
The feminists have made their beds
And now they lie about it.
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