When you think of all the sexual hang-ups, fantasies and quirks
that certain (or uncertain) men commission on the phone,
you may feel you're free of fetish, but in all of us it lurks,
yes, we're all a bunch of perverts if the naked truth be known.
Though the people thus diverted
aren't the ones who are perverted
we are fated to it even from the moment we are grown.

There's a man walks down our local High Street, 45 at least.
He is costumed like a schoolboy, with a sulk beneath his cap
and he craves a sound chastisement (for his blazer being creased?)
in the form of gentle torment from a lady with a strap.
Teenage girls walk past and wiggle
while their boyfriends stand and giggle
at this soul marooned where infancy and manhood overlap.

If you find yourself in Soho when the cinemas are shut
and the moths invade the amber lamps the prostitutes avoid,
you will see the life forbidden by the ones who call it "smut",
you will witness nature crippled by the easily-annoyed.
You may very well be shocked
when the red-lit doors are knocked
by the midnight punters, seeking what the State would see destroyed.

By some bland, innate assumption that we seldom stop to scan
we persuade ourselves that girlie-mags and sexy films are "blue";
we demoralise ourselves with this morality of man
then we lie to all our children, whose enquiries are so true.
And their young desires embark
on a journey through the dark
to a man-made hell, created for the not-so-very-few!

They can walk the streets frustrated, they can crawl along the kerb,
trying hard to master inbred guilt by means of attitude.
They can try to quench their carnal fires, but woe if they disturb
any armchairs of the status quo that creak with platitude!
Best to leave the city streets
to the pushers, pimps and cheats
and walk home, ungratified, down Rapers' Lane for gratitude!

If an ocean were obstructed by some deity insane,
would the world expect no tributary bursting of the tides?!
If a furious volcano could be corked up like champagne,
would the world expect no catastrophic blasting of its sides?!
And when Lady Love, uncrowned,
thus is driven underground,
can we blame her if she gives her hand as one of Satan's brides?!

This ever-darkening world grows black with ignorance and vice
as Mother Nature tries to cleanse herself from prudish grime!
The only light remaining is reflected off the ice
and the frigid world rejoices in the evr-thickening slime!
But let's amend this as we should
Let us see that it is good,
that potential rapists might assuage the passions of their prime!

I was born without a conscience, knowing nothing, unafraid.
I had not been taught of truth, taboo, propriety, regret.
I grew up and grew accustomed to the rules to be obeyed
and I'll go to my cremation with the rightful etiquette
and my words will melt like vapour
but there's still this piece of paper,
so the race that bore me owns my echo. May it hear me yet!