Sexual Abuse and a Washed Out Silver Tune

Women watch behind their backs.  
Men try not to make an overwhelming impression.  
Rape makes us all more conscientious.  
 
Don't look at her when you walk by. She'll think that you're a predator.  
 
Just try to walk fast by him and not draw attention to yourself.  
 
The lines are more deeply drawn between what is sex and what is sex.  
Finding oneself exercising expression of one side is criminal.  
 
The genders are more solidly driven apart,  
and the gene pool begs for less threatening features.  
 
Hopefully the sharpness of a face will fade in time,  
and sexiness will be much softer and less apparent.  
 
And people won't want sex as much anymore,  
and sex and sex will be obsolete in their division,  
and only sex as a pure element will remain  
ambitionless, without vigor, in a sacred state  
as testosterone and libido are viewed like venom.  
All and all we will never be as close as a human race.  
Violence has torn through the thread between the sexes.  
And love, oh nonthreatening holy love, is the only thing to draw us back.  
 
But lust, that chile that spiced up passion,  
we may never see it again  
because it is obscene.  
It is a threat.  
It made the violence possible.  
Can we find a moderate ground somehow?  
 
Before the genders become just friends and then fall apart not knowing intimacy just like the stars.