Who cares who sees, but I hope you do.

What sort of woman am I anyway?

The sort to lay all my shameful soul down

close my eyes, and hold my tongue

Change my mind and morals

strip dow naked and show myself

to the eyes of an almost perfect man?

I am that sort, although I never thought

I could be so brash as a bawdy girl

Who takes her heart

places it aside to turn the eye

of an almost perfect man.

But today I am just that

at my worst best never more alive

Who carse who sees,

I just hope you do

because your eyes are my chosen target

when I became this sort of woman such as I.