We Can't Always Get What We Want

Most women want what they can't fix,
And I for one have tried all tricks.
Our lovers say we look just fine;
I swear they always have a line.

We always ask about our weight,
And know this makes them so irate.
They say, "You ask this every day
And hell, I don't win anyway!"

We're getting old and know the truth.
Our hair is gray; forget our youth.
We stare at women the same age,
Their hair is natural, oh such rage!

To buy brassieres are not the same.
We try them on and tuck in shame.
What happened to our perky breasts
That now look like fried eggs at rest?

We envy all those lucky ones;
They've given birth and kept tight buns.
How is this fair for all the rest?
Now this is something I detest!