I board trains, buses, elevators,
I change stations, I change floors.
I was brought up as a free bird,
Not a tamed pigeon.
Who'd wear an apron and stay in the kitchen,
Well, instead, I wear what I like,
I go where I want, when I want,
And ride my man's bike.
My short clothes are a problem,
A bad impression on our national emblem.
A slut is what I'll be proclaimed.
And They'll be blunt.
Girls like me,
Are very easy for them to hunt.
My narrow jeans is a wrong thing.
Their narrow mindset isn't.
My short clothes is what they'll point out,
They'll whistle, tease and shout.
They'll think I'm ready, that I give consent.
But when I wore those shorts, that's not what I meant.
They think this is a game,
They think I wear these because I want fame.
First they'll perform an act of shame,
Then they'll drag me in the court and then they'll blame.
They're all double faced,
On the outside they'll tell me to wear full clothes,