Bishonen

I was born in the town of Paisley in early 1960
 And placed in the care of an old eternal bachelor
 A strict disciplinarian, a passionate antiquarian
 His collection of myths and legends was spectacular
 As a younger man he'd been to see Japan
 Where a master in a white kimono taught him
 In a shining moment the myth of the bishonen
 The youthful hero doomed to fall like blossom
 And how could I forgive the ugly fugitive
 Who brought me up according to a fantasy?
 For when the old man stared at me
 He drowned in evil beauty
 Thinking of the early death in store for me
 He taught me to be good with words, he bought me ceremonial swords
 And in this way came grace and expertise
 The words were to cut down and to kill the muscle-bound
 The swords to fell my intellectual enemies
 And women should be hated but first impersonated
 Charm, he said, is essential to misogyny
 He taught me how to woo the girls in order to outdo the girls
 And the fun would come when I'd got them to love me
 And how could I resist the old misogynist
 Who brought me up according to a fantasy?
 My softness and fragility
 My feminine grace and delicacy
 Made death himself afraid for me
 And so in time I grew to be blond and beautiful
 Pale and frail, with many male admirers
 I was promised by my father a retainer for a partner
 So loyal that nothing could divide us
 Shocked by my suggestion that I'd rather have a woman
 My stepfather replied I had no choice
 This man would cut his entrails open protecting his bishonen
 He informed me in a solemn, trembling voice
 How could I disobey that surreptitious gay
 Who brought me up according to a fantasy?
 For when the old man stared at me
 He drowned in evil beauty
 Thinking of the early death in store for me
 So me and my retainer encountered many dangers
 On travels through the North and through the South
 We ripped open the bellies of many famous bullies
 And our reputation spread by word of mouth
 In the mountains of Morocco we stopped and shared a bottle
 With a blind old man with a bearded, bandaged face
 And though the sun had sunk and the man was very drunk
 He seemed to speak with my stepfather's voice
 Saying "How could you forget the aging martinet
 Who brought you up according to a fantasy?
 Your softness and fragility
 Your feminine grace and delicacy
 Will be the death of me"
 Surprised at 28 to find myself so late
 Changing from a boy into a man
 I'm starting to feel guilty that nobody has killed me
 Early as my stepfather had planned
 I've found myself a girl and stopped roaming the world
 My retainer's gone to be a mercenary
 Now I work in a merchant bank, I'm well-liked by the senior ranks
 Though behind my back the juniors call me fairy
 And how can I placate the ugly reprobate
 Who brought me up according to a fantasy?
 For when the old man stared at me
 He drowned in evil beauty
 Thinking of the early death in store for me
 I stay awake some nights when my wife turns off the lights
 And starts breathing regularly next to me
 And I think of fallen petals and bodies pierced by metal
 And how I'll never now fulfill my destiny
 Father spare my shame, let me pass my name
 To a boy with greater beauty and more bravery
 For if I have a son I'm going to raise him to die young
 And lay him in the grave that you prepared for me