You've got a heart of gold but it won't save us from reality. Backtracking, I'm climbing up onto a train with the heat broken. Shivering in a miniskirt and knee-highs I put on lip gloss like it'll make the boys stop staring. Fifty minutes later I'm a big girl in the big city, swaying down the sidewalk like all the sex in a shot of Tequila.

I've got to endure thirty minutes of subway looks, glances at the little shirt underneath a hooded sweatshirt, glances at the way my hair just embraces that special little word, naughty.

Finally, I'm walking three blocks to a dance, high heels clanging in time to my adrenaline rush.