Daughters deserve a better shot

Its the great patriarchal divide
And of course
Its threatening life down the line
Its a force
To be reckoned with
Its where men big men take the lead
On life and on death and fail to concede

And the need to conserve to nurture to care
The quality women should show be aware
The dark force thats grabbing
And turning them in
To a vile rotten spirit
Hell bent on sin

Teaching our children to slaughter
Wild souls
Who came here to mentor
They took on those roles
They were not target practice
That was no way
To treat the creation
And to make it pay

Where are the matriarchs?
All beaten down
As men are aggressive
As men go to town
On women, their testosterone
Comes under fire
And the result is this trend
To try to aspire

Its wrong and we know it
To see little girls
Hardly out of their gym slips
And their pigtails
Being given a rifle
And shooting a moose
A beautiful creature
A soul running loose

What is the purpose
And why would a girl
Seek out a spirit
And send it to Hell
The father needs treatment
The sickness is bad
Guiding a daughter
In this way is sad

Not just for the animal
And the sweet child
But for the whole planet
And for the wild
The meat eating clan
With the acidic blood
Their sinew their lymph
The aggression does flood

Every inch of their arteries
And through their brain
And clearing such doctoring
Drives them insane

So many chemicals so much to try
And, assimilate
Which I think is why
They bring this upon themselves
It dumbs them down
We lose sight of the feminine
In her swish gown

She dons the camouflage
Sexy may be
But the apparel of hunting
Is all that we see
Its a hatred for life
Its frustration as well
Its a loathing of self
On the journey to hell

Its malice and bitterness
And disaffection
Maybe dad cant get a fucking erection!

to this end I don’t understand why
Anyones daughter should want something to die

Before its allotted time on this earth
We have no authority and thus no worth
To decide for a reason to end its short reign
And shoot it to death
Because we are insane

I stand at my altar
The goddess is near
I feel that emotion
For me its sincere
That beloved Moose
Had so much going on
And in that sad moment
Of course it is gone

What kind of trophy
Is a dead soul
A nurturing women
Has a nurturing role
She needs to retain this
Not throw it away
And become what she’s not
And then regret that day

For she will for she will for she will
For she will