But he walks the road wearing a cloak
When she flaps her wings and flies high, the golden rays can be seen miles away in the sky
But He was given the map with his first cry
No, she does not have it easy, but when she does break free, she is a sight to behold
And he was handed the script before he understood what he was being told
Hold the door open, pull out her chair
Ok to touch here but don't you look over there
Don't you dare cry, your voice had better be high
Have your shoulder ready to lean on, keep her warm at night
You had better bring home the bread and you had better always be right
Same struggles, same playground I find
No one has it easy but why is one's pain celebrated and other's struggles seem so right?
