BUT I WERE STILL ME
June 1, 2006
© Fred Dumpling. Redistribution is prohibited.
If I were a boy but I were still me,
I wonder how my life would be.
You'd point at a boy and say, "He's so hot,"
and I would nod and agree.
It would be our little secret;
if it got out, I'd already be-
If I were a boy but I were still me,
I'd put on a skirt for a shopping spree.
I wouldn't make it home that day.
My mom would worry and say,
"What is Sammy still gone for?"
Then police would knock on the door.
Mother's crying, someone's dying.
Maybe that someone is me.
My father'd close his eyes and say,
"He shouldn't have turned out this way."
Why's the world such a different land
for Gwen and Matthew than for me?
Why pick out different grains of sand
to throw into the sea?
Mother's crying, someone's dying.
Here's to Giovanni.
Someone's kissing, someone's missing
for doing the very same thing.
Some years ago, a girl named Gwen
got killed by some guys who claimed to be friends.
They tied her up, they beat her down,
they threw her in the ground.
They covered her body up with dirt
for what she hid beneath her skirt.
Her mother is crying, more are dying.
Who will the next one be?
Another case was a man named Matt,
whose death came four years before that.
They wanted to rob someone gay.
Their prejudice led the way,
but they did not just take his cash;
instead, they chose to bash and bash
his skull then leave him to bleed to his death.
It wasn't enough that the murderers won;
the protests carried on.
Why's the world such a different land
for Gwen and Matthew than for me?
Why pick out different grains of sand
to throw into the sea?
Mother's crying, someone's dying.
Here's to Zappalorti.
Someone's kissing, someone's missing
for doing the very same thing.
I am a girl, and I am me,
and I am happy, free to be.
If I were a boy, and I weren't me,
then I'd be happy, free to be.
If I were a boy, but I were still me,
then I would not be free
to live, to breathe, to be.