I met this girl who ran away from home,
gave her food and she stayed at my place.
I fucked her on the third night

We were broke,
I didn't work.
She worked the streets,
and got us drugs.
she said she loved me,
and kept my bed warm

She fed the rats,
talked to homeless men,
stole a laptop,
started making music,
strange sounds
that I could not understand

Do you love me, she asked one night.

I said no, crosseyed has stolen my heart.

Then why do you keep me?

To fuck you, what else?
You are my blow-up doll,
Besides, you're fun and you never complain

She laughed and she cried and curled on my lap.
I distinctly remember her skin was so pale and so cold and so smooth it felt artificial.

Police barged in one day, caught us injecting.
I was charged with solicitation of drugs and prostitution to a minor and statutory rape.
Turns out she was just fifteen, even less when we met

They put my face on TV, and all over the papers,
but somehow I got off with just community service.
I couldn't get a job, all my friends dissipated,
an outcast, a pariah I have become

I wander what has happened to her,
my girlfriend, my blow-up doll.
After she was taken away,
I realized that I did love her,
or at least liked her

And now I'm a pervert,
or so they say.
A sadist, a psycho, a sick piece of scum.
So they tell me,
and they might be right

I wander what has become of her,
does she still make ugly music on the computer?
After she was taken away,
I realized I loved her,
or at least liked her

And now I'm a pervert,
or so they say.
A sadist, a psycho, a sick piece of scum.
So they tell me,
and I think they are right