Sympathy for Spastics

Bred and wed of ruddy wretched men
I bet you’ve got it in for them
Their crass, sun-tanned, uneducated hands
You’ve always found a place for them
This greedy grace that permeates girls my age
Well i’m not ashamed to say
Even on their knees
It’s the sad simple dignities that charm the pants off me
Blue blood, well hung, and just a touch too young
For all the gifts god’s blessed me with
She’s thick as shit and pregnant with the myth of a noble proletariat
As you take to task this great guiltless gilded class
Well please don’t make me laugh
And bless these men of means
Whose key bumps of ketamine
Still sweep you off your feet
As we have been so we will always be
And i gather what you think of me
So i won’t defend nor condescend
Just know you’ve got my sympathy