I'M NOT A PREDATOR

Operetta cabaret with bright synth flourishes, punchy brass, and inventive percussion; mature female low-register vocals deliver playful, agile trills and melismas over choral call-and-response, Driving, urgent, uneven tempo shifts and abrupt pauses across five distinct sections; intimate close-mic recording, dense arrangement, clear animated mix, crisp finish

V6-WILD

I'm not a predator..

[verse]
I've dined with men of my own generation
A masterclass in quiet desperation
They speak of portfolios and their bad backs
And show you twenty-seven photos of their cats
They've seen the world, they've done it all before... 
My dear, they are a monumental, soul-destroying bore.

[outro]
But a boy of nineteen... that's a different art
A flawless, un-critiqued, and brand new start

[verse]
No tedious opinions, no regrets
Just fine potential and no crushing private debts
He doesn't have a history to tell... 
He is a pristine, empty, beautiful shell
He is a perfect canvas, waiting for a stroke... 
And, as a charming bonus
he might actually get the joke!

[chorus]
You call it scandalous, I call it... taste
A fine appreciation of beauty not to be wais-
sted on the young? A flawed and silly lexicon
It’s not a weakness, I’m a connoisseur’s
Prerogative to seek what truly stirs the soul. And what stirs mine, I must confess, 
Is 
beautiful, 
uncomplicated... 
“YES"

[Verse]
The ladies at the club are in tris-tEss
in a state of deep tizzy and distress
They see my interest in young Master Flynn
As some pathetic, late-life, carnal sin
They whisper "scandal," "folly," and "disgrace"
Behind a fan held to a carefully lifted face

[bridge]
My dears. It is a scholarship. A cause.
To rescue him from youth's most dreadful flaws.
He came to me, a diamond in the rough,
Articulate, but not quite groomed enough.
So I designed a private course of study,
For my delightful, if uncultured, buddy.

[chorus]
So let the world indulge in its critique
And call my predilection... shall we say, “unique” 
I'm just a matron, not a preduh-tor, 
And he's my masterpiece, my new-found sport

[verse]
We’re covering the fall of ancient Rome
And why one never, ever texts a poem
We’re learning how to order in good French
And how to navigate a courtroom bench…
The syllabus is really rather packed
We’ve just begun the unit on… tactile… contact.

[outro]
You see, a mind so young and so… un-dented
So beautifully un-self-tormented
It is a civic, solemn obligation
To give the boy a real… hands-on… education.
To take his raw, provincial potential
And make it something truly consequential.
It’s not a dalliance, it is philanthropy!
A one-woman, artistic, grand academy.

**(Outro)**
Of course, the scholarship is not entirely free.
There is a certain… practical… tuition fee.
It’s paid in installments, after hours, and in kind,
For the considerable expansion of his mind.
The work is rigorous, the progress is quite slow…
But the fringe benefits, my darlings, are divine, you know.
The boy is learning things they do not teach at Yale.
And I am grading his performance on a… rather generous… scale.

I'm not a predator..
oh no

2743/7500

I'm not a predator.. [verse] I've dined with men of my own generation A masterclass in quiet desperation They speak of portfolios and their bad backs And show you twenty-seven photos of their cats They've seen the world, they've done it all before... My dear, they are a monumental, soul-destroying bore. [outro] But a boy of nineteen... that's a different art A flawless, un-critiqued, and brand new start [verse] No tedious opinions, no regrets Just fine potential and no crushing private debts He doesn't have a history to tell... He is a pristine, empty, beautiful shell He is a perfect canvas, waiting for a stroke... And, as a charming bonus he might actually get the joke! [chorus] You call it scandalous, I call it... taste A fine appreciation of beauty not to be wais- sted on the young? A flawed and silly lexicon It’s not a weakness, I’m a connoisseur’s Prerogative to seek what truly stirs the soul. And what stirs mine, I must confess, Is beautiful, uncomplicated... “YES" [Verse] The ladies at the club are in tris-tEss in a state of deep tizzy and distress They see my interest in young Master Flynn As some pathetic, late-life, carnal sin They whisper "scandal," "folly," and "disgrace" Behind a fan held to a carefully lifted face [bridge] My dears. It is a scholarship. A cause. To rescue him from youth's most dreadful flaws. He came to me, a diamond in the rough, Articulate, but not quite groomed enough. So I designed a private course of study, For my delightful, if uncultured, buddy. [chorus] So let the world indulge in its critique And call my predilection... shall we say, “unique” I'm just a matron, not a preduh-tor, And he's my masterpiece, my new-found sport [verse] We’re covering the fall of ancient Rome And why one never, ever texts a poem We’re learning how to order in good French And how to navigate a courtroom bench… The syllabus is really rather packed We’ve just begun the unit on… tactile… contact. [outro] You see, a mind so young and so… un-dented So beautifully un-self-tormented It is a civic, solemn obligation To give the boy a real… hands-on… education. To take his raw, provincial potential And make it something truly consequential. It’s not a dalliance, it is philanthropy! A one-woman, artistic, grand academy. **(Outro)** Of course, the scholarship is not entirely free. There is a certain… practical… tuition fee. It’s paid in installments, after hours, and in kind, For the considerable expansion of his mind. The work is rigorous, the progress is quite slow… But the fringe benefits, my darlings, are divine, you know. The boy is learning things they do not teach at Yale. And I am grading his performance on a… rather generous… scale. I'm not a predator.. oh no

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