Asking Directions

When they don’t know. That’s when it drives me nuts.
And still they mutter, “Six blocks past the light.”
To lie like that to strangers takes some guts.
But lie, they do, until I’m out of sight.

And still they mutter, “Six blocks past the light.”
They’ll mention names of streets that don’t exist.
And lie, they do, until I’m out of sight.
It’s some compulsive need they can’t resist.

They’ll mention names of streets that don’t exist.
To say “I couldn’t tell you, miss” seems weak.
It’s some compulsive need they can’t resist.
So I am left too pissed to even speak…

To say “I couldn’t tell you, miss” seems weak.
Most men—for sure—will never let it pass.
And I am left so pissed I cannot speak,
Directionless without a drop of gas.

Most men—for sure—will never let it pass.
To lie like that to strangers takes some guts.
Like mouthing lewd remarks and pinching ass.
When they don’t know. That’s when it drives me nuts.