Two bottles of whiskey down my empty stomach, that showed a little through that dress.
So short those clothes they had to see, and come make a lucid comment,
of course you were wrong going out at that hour, dimwit.
Their hands explore your spine, then grab you by your neck,
Rejoice lady as they go, for you called for it instead.
Don't you stop your car and park it aside. To admire that sun set?
So what's so wrong about them doing the same, just that it's your butt.
Oh sick man, you should be all dressed up. No skin show, just no.
It makes a man fixate his gaze to that little skin you show.
Go cover your legs and back and head. don't step off from that porch.
Don't ask that fat bellied man at the police station, don't beg instead for help,
When you chose it, just get through it don't stop by and sob.
Don't eat. Don't drink. Don't sleep. Don't wake.
Don't walk. OMG. Not that way.
Don't dress like that. Too provocative you'd say.
Don't sip, shit that's erotic.
Don't speak, you're a woman.
And don't blame on men-the abuse, when you didn't cover your skinshed.
So. Stop lady. Don't breathe. That's too much you're asking for,
Die a slow death a hundred times, no other escape from hell.