When she cries, she cries,
Not for the apple or the jam,
Not for the player or the game,
Nor for the money and the robber,
Not for the 360 degrees and squares,
Not for beauty pageants or the congeniality,
Not for the wings or the rockets,
Not for the soups or the solid ices,
Not for the tampons or the lingerie,
Not for the fall or the suntans,
Not for the tithes or the offerings,
Not for the veils or the arches,
Not for the sails or the harbour,
She cries,
When charade gets too much,
When misery triumphs,
When she loses hope in herself,
When she is betrayed by her own gender.
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