No class and a tasteless sass, We are the kids left to play with the grass.
Before it was bloody and muddy, Today it’s thirty and flirty. Tomorrow we’ll sing as she screams along to the drunken beats of our town. Swaying her hips, Steady as she goes. She is our hero, Our Dear Maria.

She’s finally fallen and she can’t get up. She’s lost her face so far from grace, our dear Maria is covered in dark lace. They gather around, no longer able to talk her down. She’s finally left this sick town. She's free, and I'm  homebound. Filled with emotion, I am. It should’ve been I.