The Story

I would have returned your greeting If it weren't for the way you were looking at me This street is not a market And I am not a commodity And don't you find it sad that we can't even say hello 'Cause you're a man And I am a woman And the sun is getting low And there are some places that I can't go As a woman I can't go there And as a person I don't care I don't go for the 'hey baby, what's your name?' And I'd like to go alone Thank you just the same I am up again against The skin of my guitar In the window of my life Looking out through the bars I am sounding out the silence Avoiding all the words I'm afraid I've said too much I'm afraid of who has heard me My father, he told me the story And it was true For his time But now the story's different Maybe I should tell him mine All the girls line up here All the boys on the other side I see your ranks are advancing I see mine are left behind I am up again against The skin of my guitar In the window of my life Looking out through the bars I am sounding out the silence Avoiding all the words I'm afraid I can never say enough I'm afraid no one has heard me And despite all the balls that I've been thrown And forced to drop On the social totem pole I'm preciously close to the top They put you in your place And they tell you to behave But no one can be free Until we're all on an even grade And I would have returned your greeting If it weren't for the way you were looking at me