When we were young, we could piss up the boys [?], a black expanse of pitch, or tar, or whatever it was, it doesn't matter much anymore.
And tosses with the girls before the advent of pubescent awe and confusion.
Knickers thick, pasty in the roar of adolescence's dawn.
How innocent and cruel ran the gauntlet of first stirrings in the changing rooms of May.
Where are you now? Don't answer that.
I'm still ugly. You're still fat.
I've still got spots. I'm still afraid.
Our parents made us what we are or was it God?
Who gives a fuck, it's never really over
[Background - Left Channel:]
Trunks, dripping slowly into the gutter and the floor. Canopy's stretched black
[Background - Right Channel:]
You could - I could - it's [?]