King Girl by Hannah Elizabeth Cassidy

King Girl

Rest your weary head on me

Drain all my empathy

Drunk soaked eyes roll back into your head

There’s always an excuse

There’s so much that plagues you

Go ahead and take it all out on me

 

And I wonder, what made you

What mutation created you

 

Was it religion?

Was it a dream?

A delusion, or a memory?

Weakest is the man who survives only by raising his hands

Tell me I brought it on myself

Tell me I’ll never understand

Tell me I’ll never be able to comprehend

What truly makes a man

 

He don’t want love

Only someone else to blame

Give me no choice but to leave

Don’t follow as I walk away

 

And I wonder, what made you

What mutation created you

 

Was it religion?

Was it a dream?

A delusion, or a memory?

Weakest is the man who survives only by raising his hands

Tell me I brought it on myself

Tell me I’ll never understand

Tell me I’ll never be able to comprehend

What truly makes a man

 

Was it religion?

Was it a dream?

A delusion, or a memory?

Weakest is the man who survives only by raising his hands

Tell me I brought it on myself

Tell me I’ll never understand

Tell me I’ll never be able to comprehend

What truly makes a man

What truly makes a man

What truly makes a man


To be frank, all through my life, as a child, teenager and adult, I was abused. Most of that abuse was from men, and from female enablers who stood by and did nothing. I write songs as it’s the only voice I have. Anytime I tried to speak up about what was happening to me, I was silenced: by a teacher, by a policewoman, by ‘friends’, by relatives, by colleagues, laughed at by my managers when trying to report sexual harassment, the eyerolls from my friends as I was going through yet another “drama”  – it’s a tale as old as time that a woman who refuses to allow herself to be treated badly is branded a crazy person, hysterical, delusional. I wrote this song as a very, very pissed off response towards all my abusers at once. The refrain pretty much sums up my anger, sadness and disgust, feelings I had to bury. I don’t want much from my songwriting, but if a handful of people of people see or hear one of my songs and it helps them - that’s more than I could ask for really.


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Written by Hannah Elizabeth Cassidy

Hannah Elizabeth Cassidy, 27

Probably drunk, idiot savant