I can't handle you.
I can't handle it.
There's little I can do,
So your bait remains unbit.
Keep fishing, but I won't bite,
Because it wouldn't be right.
I can't handle you.
I can't handle it.
There's little I can do,
So your bait remains unbit.

I evolved for another time,
When women hunting was a social crime.
The rules have reversed,
And now I'm cursed
By my timidity, and submission.
But, this is how I be,
I can't handle a mission
To save my own life.
I'll never be your wife.
There's too much strife,
Too much anxiety.
It can never be.
Because you reversed the rule.
Now, the game is cruel.
We're not evolved for the hunt,
And you're not evolved to fish.
I can't be so blunt,
As to tell you what I wish.
I can't handle it.
I can't handle you.

You desire a handler.
You desire your mother.
But, I'm not her.

Something in you is broken,
You've not yet matured into men.
You lack the balls to go on the hunt.
You wanted me to be blunt.
Yet, you don't want it when you get it,
And it hits for an epic crit.

Average girls have no confidence.
Average boys have no confidence.
So, the girls hunt, and the boys do fish.
But, I'll be blunt, I'll tell you what we wish.
We want real men, from another time.
So, while you'll hear the wedding bells chime,
The ink will touch paper to divorce, of course.
And, it won't be me.