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