Raccoons in the trash a voice on the breeze. The fits & the screams when you were only thirteen You had the attic room You heard the whole thing Under the slanted ceiling your dad painted blue Whatever happened to you Only the worst could be assumed You're dreaming often of the attic room In other rooms with other boys Under other ceilings The springs & the sighs May drown another night But you wake up shaking & all that's new Is the owner of the arm around you How could he know what to do He never had the attic room