"Pink Taco" on her shirt she wore,

Doesn't know that she's a whore.

With markings on her arms, her back,

She wonders what he thinks she lacks.



Nice it seems is what she is,

As my Bacardi O fills up with fizz.

I wonder if she knows I'm trashed,

With the broken bottle I just smashed.

Or maybe she just doesn't care

...how long I look, how long I stare.



I spill my drink across the green,

And "Pink Taco" still isn't mean.

I laugh with Bobby at the bar

Before we leave to get my car.

I lie alone out on the street,

With white Nikes upon my feet;

Stranger checks my pulse to see

If I'm alive or been set free.



Love arrives, driving my car;

I wonder how we got so far.

He yells at me to hurry up,

Cops are coming to see what's up.



I jump inside and fall asleep,

After I tear up the receipt,

With Bobby's number written above,

In my pocket is where it's shoved.



We sleep twisted in each other's arms,

Away from hurt, away from harm;

Waiting for the sun to rise,

To start up again with our lies.

Forgetting about the night before,

When "Pink Taco" is what she wore.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------