The Tennis Curmudgeon


Lyric O’ The Month

Monica
Dan Bern

I remember Monica at the U.S. Open
Might have been sixteen, couldn’t have been much more
Answering some questions, and giggling, I’d never seen
Someone so alive on TV before.

Do you remember Monica screeching on her backhands
Disguising herself when she went out at night?
Coloring her hair, like something was telling her
Lay low, invisible, and out of sight.

And then Monica, the blade came Monica,
Like God spitting on you, a knife in your back.
We read it in the paper, then moved on to other things
But for you all the colors fade to black

And oh, Monica, there you are Monica
On the cross with Jesus and Martin Luther King.
Just like John Lennon by that hotel
You have to pay for our sins.

Was it like being raped, was it like being dead
Like a bad movie over and over and over again
And then did everyone who got close to you
Suddenly hold a knife in their hand

And now you’re back, Monica, grim and hammering
Trying not to think about that thing then.
And I hope that you win every medal you can win
But it might never be much fun again.

And oh, Monica, there you are Monica
On the cross with Jesus and Martin Luther King
Just like John Lennon by that Hotel
You have to pay for our sins

Just like Jesus by that hotel
You have to pay for our sins

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