If I could recreate the world

I'd do it so damn differently

I'd create a masterplan

To stamp out infidelity

 

I'd give each soul 100 years

With years to be subtracted

Severity decided, by who you wronged

And how you acted

 

It would depend upon your misdemeanours

How many years you'll lose

If you dip your nib in the office ink

Your wife will get to choose

 

Same rules apply for women folk

If you seduce the plumber

Your hubby gets to be the one

To reduce your magic number

 

So let the sinners keep on sinning

And the saints will surely thrive

The men folk dead by fifty

The women fifty five