| Posters from teenage magazines,
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| Closed the door, you locked it with a key
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| The pictures would keep you company at night
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| Handsome strangers to hold on tight
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| You put some music and it filled the room
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| Gently like a snowfall.
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| We were always interrupted by your mother
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| She was knocking at the door, offering cookies,
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| Candy, ice cream from the store.
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| I thought you were spoiled, you screamed
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| «Piss off you fuckin' whore»
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| And then you whispered
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| «Let's steal some wine, mom won’t notice anything»
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| And while the music melted down
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| We heard her steps, she was staggering.
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| We were bored, but you know,
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| You’re not supposed to play at that age
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| The only thing you talked about was guys
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| And getting laid
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| You had big tits and every boy in school wanted to fuck you
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| You told me stories about what these boys could do
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| «they rip off your clothes, all they wanna do is screw»
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| Cans of hairspray piled up like skyscrapers
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| I remember the smell of dark
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| Fat food that your mother fried in the cigarette smoke
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| And in a hesitating cloud of despair. |