The first apartment I ever called my own Complete with kitchen, bathroom and twin bed No mom, no dad But a living room with a rickety couch And ugly blue carpets, with cigarette burns Even though smoking wasn't allowed
They bulldozed it to the ground It's a big parking lot now Full of those tiny rocks The annoying ones that get stuck in your shoes They bulldozed my first apartment And a few of my other firsts
Like the first time I thought I was in love And I waited nervously In front of the heavy, wooden door And he came in with a mission Because drinking and ripping bongs Melted away any nerves he may have had
I wondered if I'd shudder when the moment finally came If I'd get red in the face - hot from the pressure Would my arms turn splotchy? Would my chest turn red? Turning me into some diseased-looking freak As opposed to the pretty, young thing I'd wanted him to make love to If only I knew, That he wouldn't notice any of that
He didn't ask me if I was sure Like guys do in the movies And he told me what I wanted to hear And bent me in ways someone with no experience Should not be bent And the TV was on in my very first living room The whole time - the History Channel I listened to the low hum You could hear it through the walls Despite what was supposed to be A lifelong, loving memory, I learned about World War II
My twin bed had pink sheets with white stripes And a pink comforter too And the next week he forgot my 19th birthday And I don't know what I expected But it was OK - I said it was OK Because I had my own apartment And my own kitchen That I can't ever recall cooking in And I had my pink sheets That didn't feel so innocent anymore
Table, chairs, fridge and freezer I had all of that. Frozen dinners and plastic handles of ***** Not all memories are worth remembering Sometimes, they just get bulldozed