I walk outside with no clothes on,
My bosom bare for all to see.

Some people look at me, quite unhappy
With my sagging breasts,
My split and crusty nipples.

Who are they to judge
The beautiful body of a child of God?
Who are they to say,
"She is not beautiful?"

And yet, they do.
It hurts my liver, my intestines, my soul
To see their wandering eyes,
To hear their unheard whispers,
And know they do not love my bosom.

So, in order to appease the villainy
of MANKIND, I cut a slice of from the
Brick of Cheese in my purse, it is
American today, and place it on one breast.
I cut another slice, and place it one the other.
What think you know, you decrepit toads?