Sing for all the times you tried to recreate women who already existed, sing for the Botox that stopped the wrinkles when all your skin was trying to do was to remember you smile to help your spirits get lifted; for the broken breast implant that leaked for all the tears she kept inside her, for the one night hit and runs where a woman tried to keep a man by throwing her uterus in front of his tires hoping that the bump would take him higher so he'd be closer to his potential and with all the passion in their voices the vortex began to open up. 