Out of Luck

[Robin]

This one is kind of odd. It's the first rhyming thing I've attempted in a long while, and the first song I've attempted in aeons. I haven't gotten around to writing music for it, but I may sooner or later.

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[slowly] Little-girl underwear, that is what she still wears.
Sensible cotton briefs, those are the first thing that he tears.
Green Day in the CD player, Longview blasting in their ears.
Punk rock in the headphones, paradise sums up their fears.

Crazy high school romance, that is what explains the sin.
A beat up pick-up truck, that is what they did it in.
Rips in the ratty seats, foam filler brushing at her thighs.
Amaranthine lunar light, that’s what’s shining in her eyes.

[quickening] High school love in the back of a truck,
We’re out of luck, we’re out of luck.
[fast]High school love in the back of a truck,
We’re out of luck, we’re out of luck.

[slowing]Glaring flashlights in their eyes, that is what disrupts the act.
Stigmata dripping from their hands, with those they make the pact.
Stains in their underwear, they pull them quickly up their legs.
[cresting]Their passion fades so quickly, and Shame laps up the dregs.

[urgently, quickly]Screams of fathers in their ears, that is what wakes them up.
They urgently need forgetfulness, and so they drain the cup.
Creases in her linen skirt, she brushes them out with her hand.
It’s the awkward song of their life sung by an obscure band.

[medium paced]High school love in the back of a truck,
We’re out of luck, we’re out of luck.
High school love in the back of a truck,
We’re out of luck, we’re out of luck.

High school love in the back of a truck,
We’re out of luck, we’re out of luck.
[slowing]High school love in the back of a truck,
We’re out of luck, we’re out of luck.

[slowly, quietly] The rev of her engine driving away, that is what brings him back.
He climbs into the front seat, shell-shocked and took aback.
Keys turned harshly in the ignition, engine growling like a dog.
Angry songs play on the radio, and that’s what spurs him through the fog.

[loudly] High school love in the back of a truck,
We’re out of luck, we’re out of luck.
High school love in the back of a truck,
We’re out of luck, we’re out of luck.

[whispered] We’re out of luck.

[behindTHEmask]

It’s the awkward song of their life sung by an obscure band.

I was turned off at that part. I wanted to skim the rest of the song before reading it, to make sure there wasn't more of it.

But I like the song. Nice, easy chorus.

[Robin]

Yeah. That one line is pretty awkward.

Any suggestions on how to remedy it?

[Ramona]

I liked this a lot. The idea of the line behindTHEmask mentioned was very nice, but it was somewhat awkward.