Molly came to school when I was fourteen but she was years older, appearing as a beautiful traveller who'd circled the globe and made friends with everybody.
She was always the popular one, but one I never got to know, because my sister at thirty-five told me that she had killed a man once or twice.
The kids I knew found this hard to believe, as Molly got to know them all. She'd hang out with them after school, and was always there, waiting to widen her circle. Molly never lost her charm, and she stole the hearts of boys I loved. She opened their eyes to a world I could not show them, she drank their blood on Friday nights. Every boy I'd meet would have a story to tell, her name dropped like an atom bomb into conversation.
They'd all met her. They all knew her.
They met her at nightclubs, and stopped caring about how **** the music sounded They met her on their holidays , and tasted her before the alcohol wore off They met her at festivals, where she'd creep into their tents before the main stage lit up
I wonder maybe one day will we be friends Instead of resenting each other because she's killed a man more than once or twice
For N, D & F and all the boys and girls that found love in a pill