It’s all kind of a haze.
I’d been drinking. A lot.
But that’s just college, a phase.
Binge drinking, smoking pot.
You came right up to me,
And the girls whispered “he’s great!”
“This is my room, see?”
Before I knew, it was too late.
Falling down drunk, you threw me on your bed.
I was screaming and crying “please stop, it hurts.”
I guess you didn’t hear cause you just grabbed me by the head.
The next day I heard you making jokes, spreading lies, saying, “she squirts.”
Now they say I’m a whore. Slut. Woman of the night.
Call me what you want, doesn’t mean it’s right.