Text "Marianne Faithfull - The Ballad of Sexual Dependency"
Now there's a man, the living tool of Satan
He charges forth while others are debating
Conniving, cocky knave with all the trimmings
I know one thing will trim him down — women.
In women he meets deep authority,
In them he feels his old dependency.
He sniggers at the Good Book, mocks the priss and prim,
Does anything for pay if it will pay
And since he knows what ladies do to him
He thrusts them well out of his way.
All through the day he swears
He's self denying, then dusk descends
And once again he's lying.
They're all the same in meeting love's confusion
Poor noble souls get blotted in illusion
The one who swore he could escape the clinches
Who is it that entangles him, wenches
It fain resists their lush authority
Before him stands his old dependency.
He harked the ten Commandments
Trod the tried and true, would godly be and Golden Rule obey.
For lunch ate frugally, a grape a two,
Survived on one pure thought a day.
He screamed, "I've mastered it without half trying"
Appears the moon and once again he's lying.
Idiots — all of them.