Old White Men

A young boy only six years old
His mouth's dry and his hands are cold
Shaking all the way from his head to his toes
Cause he's just been told what he's worth

A young girl doesn't talk too much
Mommy's fighting daddy over such and such
Craving so deep for a loving touch
But she can't get what she deserves

We are thriving on the love
Of Old White Men and their thoughts
On what is right and what is wrong
We are calling out the cowards
To claim what is rightfully ours
We are daughters, we are sons

She hops on and she takes her place
The bus driver takes the usual way
But the backseats of hell can't keep their hands to themselves
Grabbing her just like a toy

Everybody's watching in the broad daylight
As if she asked to be objectified
Now she won't be in love til she's twenty-five
Cause she can't put her trust in a boy

We are thriving on the love
Of Old White Men and their thoughts
On what is right and what is wrong
We are calling out the cowards
To claim what is rightfully ours
We are daughters, we are sons

We are choking on the love
Of Old White Men and their thoughts
On what is right and what is wrong
We are calling out the cowards
To claim what is rightfully ours
We are daughters, we are sons