A young boy only six years old His mouth's dry and his hands are cold Shaking all the way from his head to his toes Cause he's just been told what he's worth A young girl doesn't talk too much Mommy's fighting daddy over such and such Craving so deep for a loving touch But she can't get what she deserves We are thriving on the love Of Old White Men and their thoughts On what is right and what is wrong We are calling out the cowards To claim what is rightfully ours We are daughters, we are sons She hops on and she takes her place The bus driver takes the usual way But the backseats of hell can't keep their hands to themselves Grabbing her just like a toy Everybody's watching in the broad daylight As if she asked to be objectified Now she won't be in love til she's twenty-five Cause she can't put her trust in a boy We are thriving on the love Of Old White Men and their thoughts On what is right and what is wrong We are calling out the cowards To claim what is rightfully ours We are daughters, we are sons We are choking on the love Of Old White Men and their thoughts On what is right and what is wrong We are calling out the cowards To claim what is rightfully ours We are daughters, we are sons