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Sweet Cis Teen

de Dazey and the Scouts

Don't wanna be somebody's mother
Don't wanna be a wife
Tell me I'm all that you're scared of
Call me king dyke
So are you a boy or are you just your trauma?
I'm not a broken thing or one or the other

Sweet cis teen, sweet cis teen
Sweet cis teen, sweet cis teen

I can't leave the house every time I bleed per month
Can't reclaim what you don't know as dysphoria
And I don't hate myself
I'm just a dead name, and you're in my way

Sweet cis teen, sweet cis teen
Sweet cis teen, sweet cis teen

To be trans is to be your own pall bearer
To carry the weight of a dead person around with you
My gender can't speak
But even if it could
It'd stay hidden in the corner of every room
Trying to keep quiet anyway
Learn to piece my parts together on an assembly line
Learn to code a language where I am not excluded
If my gender had a pair of arms
It'd point out all the rallies I didn't get the invitation for
How in the second wave we fought for gender equality
And limited the number to two
If my gender could be sold
It wouldn't fit inside the pages of Ms. Magazine
If my gender had legs, it would sprint
Catch up with all the progress that feminism is making
All the fucking progress that
T.E.R.F. feminism is making

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