Futile Quibbling
You don't have to worry yourself about nothing For fruitless concern is a barren dry gully well You can groan, wail and chant into bloody exhaustion and only attract bored mockful chuckles and rehearsed pity 'The elders' shall be too busy for all except foreplay related bothers They shall be aroused by the anguish of your hands being shredded as you croon You shall learn to find it refreshing and thrilling to party on borrowed time You don't have to hardly think about nothing You are not the first to fall prey to a con Beguiled, you naively gyrated, planned weddings and discarded your underwear to surrender it all In response to their absent minded skillful flirts, wrapped in flattery They teased you, indulged you for pastime entertainment To blame your naivety and gullibility is even less pointless You don't have to talk about nothing for speech is as futile a chore as collecting bathwater in a sisal-woven basket You'll slowly learn to also discuss, sing,