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I'm not a fucking drag queen
I'm in another bracket
What you see before you
Is not some midnight racket
Nothing here is padded
I've paid a mighty fortune
A few things have been added
And one or two subtractions

I'm not a fucking drag queen
I won't let you forget it
When you say "Good day, sir"
You stab me all the way through
My tender, transgender heart

And if you happen to be gay
You could show a little heart and understanding
Instead of twittering and whispering and pointing Judas fingers
Like a bunch of cunning linguists at some gender crucifixion
And if you think I'm such a freak
There's no need to cut me down
And put me in my place
You just may want to look at your pants, oh so wet
And your knees like castonets are giving you away

I'm not a fucking drag queen
I don't wear foot-long lashes
Don't wear a pound of makeup
Or seventeen tiaras
I don't want your five dollars
Before this song is over
Don't want your "How's it going, man?"
Nononononono...Miss Squires will do nicely

'Cause I'm not a fucking drag queen
So please don't be so rude
I'll break your fucking legs, sir
And then I'll pirouette while
I mend my transgender heart
Can't you just say "Yes dear"
And "she" and "her" and "sister"
To my tender, transgender heart

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