she is twelve and i'm only ten
buried in this soft mountain of pillows
parents away
she asks me have i been touched
have i done the thing with anyone yet
silence, a shy no
and there is nothing
that we'd rather share
than that bodily warmth if we'd dare
but she's already twelve and i am
just a child
warm and shy
she's so old, already twelve and i am only ten
than was me, young and free, there and then
now in the hotel room i lie wondering who i am
never quite as sure after a lie of questioning
finding out at last that freedom is
a state of mind
but still not knowing how to get along with this mankind
finding out at last that freedom is a state of mind..
