 I don't want to sleep till midday, then lick my wounds at night. I don't want to taste a perfume, waterholes and a tights. I don't want to meet your quota, one place for socialites. I don't want to wear this clothing, powder my nose just right. I don't want to drip my honey onto ungrateful tongues. I don't want to rip my throat out, singing what's not been sung.