Sweet cis teen

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