The news buzzed through the halls of the junior high.
Four and five letter words curdled by and by.
They said her friends wrote her an awful anti-love letter.
With small vocabulary, condemned her.

No more perfect popular lunch table.
Alone, those girls would make her cry, they’d make her want to fly away.

The girl was dead already in the halls.
(Jealous, jealous girls)
Mascara smeared, the tears would be her fall
(I’d pull out the four-letter words for you)
from graceless beauty, broken-winged, she’d crawl
(Worthless, worthless girls)
back to the pecking gulls, whose nests were small.
(I’d pull out my insides and cry)

Insecure animals—ugly and desperate, being girls
The relentless and hideous two in charge; one day, they will get theirs too.

The gulls sang day and night to the other flocks
(They made me want to kill myself)
Upon the phone lines, ringing off rooftops.
(No lies. No lies)
Deflecting sun’s rays from their own chipped beaks.
They’d never fly with chains around their feet.

Small towns, they boil and churn
And things that never leave will never learn.
When karma rears, there’s nowhere to turn,
And one day all their scars will burn.

Bitches will be bitches when they’re heard.
Bitches will be bitches when they’re heard.