Alix Olson - C*nt C*ntry Lyrics

I’ve decided to start
C*nt C*ntry!
Write our own Cunstitution
Let our liberated clit bells ring out:
The C*nts are coming: It’s the C*nt Revolution!
I’d cut through my panties, I’d shake my pube hair loose,
I’d sign my Jane HanC*nt in cursive with C*nt juice.
I’d declare the Independence of Clitoris to Shining Clitoris,
Proclaim the Emancipation of all C*nts--
and tell Dicks this:
You’re being drafted for the Big Solution:
Stand Erect, Be Proud,
You’re part of the C*nt Revolution!
Defending our slick, silky, vaginal turf
For all c*nted creatures, created or by birth.
And they’d wear buttons with fists raised, that say:
Patriarchy! I survived! Now this Dick’s fighting the Good Fight for
Vaginal Pride!
And kids in school would learn the Her-story
Of the Boston Tea-ch Party,
When C*nt-Liberators tossed C*nt-Traitors into the sea,
Finally felt what it meant to be free.
And they’d learn how color complicated the win,
How White C*nted Creatures had to sacrifice Privilege,
Re-focus Vision for a Real Revolution to happen.
And kids would have weekly field trips
To the Museum of Un-Natural His-Story
With display glass jars of rapist dicks in all their shriveled glory.
And Behind velvet rope, ancient relics of the past, like:
Female Guilt, Circumcision knives, Certificates turning whole people into Wives.

And there’d be torture chamber exhibits
with tall, skinny heels
Inviting little girls to:
Try this, and see how this feels—
C*nted Creatures wore these to work or to anywhere formal:
This Pain was called Sexy. This process was called Normal!
And there’d be old collections of posters like:
Keep Abortion Legal- with a plaque:
Not much is known. But these come from an era when
Insecure Ruling Dickheads thought of
Bodies as something to own.
We’d pledge allegiance to P-Flag
With stars like you-- and crooked stripes!
We’d carry passports made from a giant C*nt Mold
In all pubic colors: Gray, Auburn, Ebony, Gold.
We’d ban all commercials of:
Are you not so fresh?
Is your vag repulsive? Do you stink like fish?
And instead, we’d conduct a C*nt Taste-Testing Session,
Get used to the smells of Blood, Yeast, and the Ocean.
And Hothead Paison would lead Alison Bechdel’s Dykes:
Watch out for the C*nt C*ntry Army on Bikes!
There’d be an Esteemed Office called "National Astrologist"
And C*nt Commander in Chief would be… a Gynecologist.
And Michael Moore would be Vice-Pres…
Cause the C*nt C*ntry Court of Legality says:
Possessing a C*nt matters less than possessing
the C*nt Mentality.
And daughters would laugh at old-fashioned terms like
Virgin and Bitch and Whore
As they checked out the newest inventory of vibrators Sold at the corner store.
Because daughters would be freer and dykes would be Freer and dicks would be freer
If we stood up and sang:
My C*nt tis of Thee
My C*nt tis of Thee
Because C*nt is the latin root of Kin and Country
But see, somehow some of our countrymen forgot they had
Sisters, decided to treat us as unwelcome visitors,
Made it hard to have a c*nt in this country.
Made it hard to have a c*nt in this country.
So, we are starting C*nt C*ntry.
Not out of rebellion,
Or unexamined sisterhood,
Or some sort of Seventies Separatist Revival.
We are starting C*nt Land
For that which it will stand:
One Nation
Under Survival.