Boy, Mundane - Melodrama of a Modern Misanthrope
Molly Jane was just sixteenLa da da da da
When he knew he was a she
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Her mom just wouldn't understand
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But Molly Jane had other plans
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Her mother may not love her
But she knew some old man would
She high-tailed to the red light
Just as fast as her heels could
She got a taste of ladyhood
She never was the same
And that is the sad story of our
Whorey Molly Jane
When she'd turned a ripe nineteen
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After three years on the street
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Getting robbed and raped each night
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That life began to lose its shine
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She moved up to the brownstone
Of a philandering regular
Silk sheets, thousand thread count
And a platinum dishwasher
When on those sheets he took her
Things would never be the same
For he knew not the whole story of our
Whorey Molly Jane
As he ripped off her best dress
Oh the disaster and distress
To find not a vulva pink and clean
But a turgid fully tucked peen
He tried to choke her out but she was
Stronger than he thought
She ran and grabbed a carving knife to
Cut the bastard off
And with that final chop the
Old boy never was the same
And that is the sad story of our
Whorey Molly Jane
Our heroine now twenty-three
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In jail on reckless battery
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And when the attacks had gone too far
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She hung her body from the bars
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They stuffed her in her coffin and then
Stuffed her full of glue
She said take all the male off and
Throw some tits in too
She put it in her will
So she would never be the same
And that is the sad story of our
Whorey Molly Jane
Written by:
Garrett Medlock
Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
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