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