Remembering the haze of the Spice Girl days,

You were poison to me,

But you tasted like fairy floss.

You could choose who would lose

at bonne belle kiss-chase

when you were always the pink power ranger.

Innocent lies began our demise

When we tried on our futures in the sandpit

And you told me what I shouldn’t be.

But even at eight we wanted escape;

We piled those giant marshmallow cushions

Under the window to climb free.

Now I’m running from you,

Stop clouding my sight.

Don’t come for me now with your scarlet rain.