Monica

I remember Monica
 At the US Open
 She mighta been 16
 Couldn't've been much more
 Answering some questions
 And giggling, I'd never seen
 Someone so alive on TV before
 Do you remember Monica
 Shrieking on her backhand
 Disguising herself as she went out at night
 Coloring her hair
 Like someone was telling her
 Lay low, invisible, and out of sight
 And then, Monica
 The blade came, Monica
 Like God spitting on you, a knife in your back
 We read it in the paper
 Then moved on to other things
 But for you all the colors, fade to black
 And oh, Monica
 There you are, Monica
 On the cross with Jesus and Martin Luther King
 Just like John Lennon, by that hotel
 You have to pay for our sins
 Was it like being raped?
 Was it like being dead?
 Like a bad movie over and over again?
 And then, did everyone who came close to you
 Suddenly hold a knife in their hand?
 And now you're back, Monica
 Grim and hammering
 Trying not to think about that thing, then
 And I hope that you win
 Every medal you can win
 But it may never be much fun again
 And oh, Monica
 There you are, Monica
 On the cross with Jesus and Martin Luther King
 Just like John Lennon, by that hotel
 You have to pay for our sins
 Just like Jesus, by that hotel
 You will have to pay for our sins