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(difford/tilbrook) |
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The crown of the kingdom is given to the woman |
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The kingdom of the kitchen where she says she shouldn't, |
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There on the stainless steel her cigarettes and matches |
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Whistles to the radio to every hook she catches, |
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But the frowns |
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Eider downs, |
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Tie her down |
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But she likes to wear the crown of the kingdom. |
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She like the recipes a touch of oriental |
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Steaming up the windows burning egg on metal, |
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Sees in a catalogue a shiny new appliance |
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Another role swallowed by the wonders of science, |
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Lobster hands |
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Omelette pans, |
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Understand |
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How the crown can stick like jam in her kingdom. |
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He's been so busy and she's been neglected, |
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The problem is computed and always it's rejected, |
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Out of her heart i catch a spark, |
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And being smart |
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The crown is left out in the dark now there's no kingdom. |
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Fed up with the glory she abdicates her title |
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Sitting at a bar stool she gives her day's recital, |
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The family watch in horror |
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As she staggers up the hallway |
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Makes herself a sandwich |
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As they're looking through the doorway, |
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She goes to bed |
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Leg by leg, |
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Nothing's said |
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There's no crown upon her head there's no kingdom. |
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Press the button on the toaster |
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It's a woman's world, |
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Tuck the sheets in on the bed |
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It's a woman's world, |
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Take your apron from your holster |
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It's a woman's world, |
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Shoot the crown off of your head |
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It's a woman's world. |
