you started out that way you'd do anything to stay and keep your money boys made of silver and gold keep your pekinese, turkish cigarettes and your lighter that looks like a gun so you marry your daddy with a different name sex and dying in high society that pretty man of yours the one hiding inside the director's clothes the one who calls you dear after banging away at you in the night that one's just got to go every time you look at him you could almost just fall asleep and there's a masterbating getting underneath the bed and now you tell the maid to burn you on your virgin back with a curling iron hotter than hot you say it's good enough you say your pain is better than any kind of love