Don't Call Me Lady (Agnes' Jeremiad)

from Ephphatha! by Joel Henry Little

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lyrics

Don’t call me lady; I’d never call you a sir.
Don’t tell me which of my tones you may or may not prefer,
You lowly cur.

I know the ways of the world; I’ve played every card.
You won’t appease me, this isn’t Sunset Boulevard.
It didn’t have to be so hard,

Simpatico...

Those little men with their little hands on the door -
I tell you, Sheila, I don’t know if I can take it anymore;
I’m losing my form.

Each morning I wake up just dreading the day,
And spend the nights resenting how I just let ‘em slip away.
Remember how we used to pray?

Well here I go:

[Can you hear me, Lord?
Would you kill me now?
I’m so tired.
I’m so tired all the time.
I’m so tired and alone.]

They never ask if I really need to be here;
Is it my womanhood or my brain that they really fear?
It’s almost too clear...

I used to twiddle my thumbs and make all these plans,
And now I sit by the window counting the minivans...
Here’s to the endless wringing hands,

Too weak to sew.

[CHORUS]

credits

from Ephphatha!, released March 13, 2020

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Joel Henry Little New York, New York

Aged wunderkind

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