Daughters of the world rejoice,
your wishes have been heard,
the slums of love are emptied out,
to get what you deserved.
A thousand lonely suitors spurned,
into Cassanova made,
a thousand airy promises,
to prop up your charade.
With your useless armor rent,
you’ll pay submissions fee,
night will give your heart’s content,
by morning you’ll be free.
When the years have left you dry,
the dance is all but done,
your flowers all lie wilting,
in the absence of the sun.
The price you pay for what you want,
is counted in the years,
that wait for you beyond your youth,
with nothing left but tears.
The knights have been vanquished
perished into a dream,
and on a throne of bitter hearts,
the rogue reigns supreme.