Mini-Skirt Brigade

Verse 1:

The bus stop queue, a Tuesday morn,

Grey skies above, a city worn.

She stood out bright, a vivid flash,

In tights of scarlet, bold and brash.

Her lipstick screamed a rebel yell,

Against the beige, the muted hell

Of office drones and weary sighs,

A painted smile behind her eyes.

Chorus:

Oh, the mini-skirt brigade are back in town,

They're turning heads and wearing the crown.

Long hair cascading, a waterfall,

Defying the drab, standing up tall.

A touch of satire, a playful wink,

A potent potion in a plastic drink.

They're rewriting the rules, one sequin at a time,

Leaving the ordinary far behind.

Verse 2:

Her handbag bulged with magazines,

Of vintage glamour, forgotten queens.

A history lesson, taught in style,

A knowing glance, a cheeky smile.

The older women, with furrowed brow,

Remembered days, not quite like now.

When hemlines rose and spirits soared,

A silent revolution, long ignored.

Chorus:

Oh, the mini-skirt brigade are back in town,

They're turning heads and wearing the crown.

Long hair cascading, a waterfall,

Defying the drab, standing up tall.

A touch of satire, a playful wink,

A potent potion in a plastic drink.

They're rewriting the rules, one sequin at a time,

Leaving the ordinary far behind.

Bridge:

Is it rebellion, or just a game?

A fleeting fancy, or lasting fame?

The critics ponder, with furrowed face,

While she just dances, at her own pace.

Does she care what they think, or what they say?

She's living her truth, come what may.

A kaleidoscope of colour, bright and bold,

A story unfolding, never to grow old.

Verse 3:

She walks into the office block,

A sudden tremor, a ticking clock.

The water cooler gossip starts to flow,

But she just smiles, and puts on a show.

A power stance, a knowing glance,

She's running the place, taking a chance.

They underestimated her, that's their mistake,

She's more than just lipstick, for goodness sake!

Chorus:

Oh, the mini-skirt brigade are back in town,

They're turning heads and wearing the crown.

Long hair cascading, a waterfall,

Defying the drab, standing up tall.

A touch of satire, a playful wink,

A potent potion in a plastic drink.

They're rewriting the rules, one sequin at a time,

Leaving the ordinary far behind.

Outro:

So raise a glass, to the fearless few,

Who dare to be different, and see it through.

With tights and lipstick, and a knowing eye,

The mini-skirt brigade will never die.