Now the run in the same park each night after work, To get fresh from a day of going beserk, ‘How was your day dude?’ he says to his friend, ‘Ah you know same old slog, a means to an end…’ ‘Hey look at that Girl there, Great set of legs on her, All tight and toned, A beautiful Girl…But what do you go for, What tickles your fancy, Small little cute girls, Or Bust-Dropping Nancy?
He smiles at his friend as he slows down, his friend stops with him and he turns around and says…I Like Girls Who Can Sing.
When she’ll sing in the shower, for over an hour, when the water’s turned on she gives it more power than the rangers give Zordon, or Flash Gordon, because she fights her bordom with beautiful keys, A Capellas she need and when the light is turned off at night she still hums in her dreams. I like a girl, a girl like that, I like girls who do that sort of thing. I like Girls who can Sing.
Now she’s scared of the noise of her genuine voice, she’s embarrassed by challenges but if her choice was music on stages, or silence on pages and darkness, she’d fight for her life to save different compartments of music and song, she’d sing along, while perserving her need to rejoyce in her voice…I Really like girls who can sing.
And when she’s Happy, so Happy, you can hear it in her tune, come Friday or Saturday she’ll sing to the moon. When she tries on her skirts, prep work for the flirts, her Make-up is Made up, her heels already hurt…but it’s worth it, so worth it.
Her friends all come over, the night has begun, the louder she sings the better the fun. She turns the beats up, the music is so loud, Looking at her standing there even the Mirror is Proud, with her friends all around. She knows that more music will make her hair fling, that’s why I Really Like Girls who can Sing.
Or when she’s sad, or angry, when she’s really depressed, When she can’t fight off her tears, or bear to get dressed, she puts on her headphones and listens in silence and slowly realises, that All her themes are covered – she’s not alone, So many others have felt her same moan and So many others have heard her same groan. So she sits up and smiles and thinks to herself, although so many others can’t hear it – she still can, So she sings it and sings it and sings it and sings it and…she becomes sick of the bloody thing, I like Girls who wear that sort of bling….I Like Girls who can Sing.
By Tiger Paws Junior