Whos the Daddy A woman whoâs never felt true love is kinda like a grasshopper bouncing around a field, hunting for the fattest blade of grass to settle on. She hops from one to another, inspecting, tasting, weighing her options, thinking the next one might be juicier or more satisfying. The fieldâs full of potential, but no blade ever quite hits the spotâsome too thin, others just plain withered. Deep down, itâs not really about the grass itâs about the emptiness inside that no blade, no matter how thick, can fill. In the end, lifeâs a game of musical chairs while sheâs busy looking for the perfect seat, someone else sits down and makes it theirs. One loses, another finds â simple as that.
