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John and I fell asleep watching soap operas on the TV, and making conversation about how we felt about death. It was nice to have someone to talk to seriously and then laugh with the next. 

He woke me the next morning, telling me I had time for a shower before we were to leave. Excited to get going, I showered, braided my hair and slipped into a pair of jeans and borrowed one of John's sweaters. I stuck my feet into some construction boots and did my makeup; which consisted of mascara and eyeliner. Both of us grabbed our bags and headed out to the lobby of the motel, hoping a majority of everyone was there. John didn't like waiting for long periods of time. Luckily, we were only waiting on Anthony.

I joined Eddie and Stone on the couch and snuggled myself in the cushions.

"Good morning Lilly!" Eddie said cheerfully, his cheekbones rosy and posy.

I smiled back at him, "Good morning Eddie."

"How'd you sleep?"

"Good, yourself?"

"Good, and I'm glad!"

We talked a little more until Flea helped a stumbling Anthony into the room. He was clearly suffering from a hangover. He looked at me and smiled the best he could despite the confusion on his face. 

I looked down at the ground, not forgetting what he said to me last night. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him frown at me, probably because I didn't smile back.. or even really acknowledge him. I followed closely behind John as we walked to our tour bus. 

The drive to Nevada was very quiet and awkward for me. I spent most of it the back room of the bus with John playing a song based off of a melody I played last night. We had 4 minutes worth of guitar, but we were trying to put as much meaning into the lyrics as we could. So far we only had this:
Tell me now, are you even real now?
Or you just fakin'?
C'mon baby, what you got to do?
Misleading us that you're so in touch, picking up the guys at the bar;
Telling them you're worth more than free
We all know it's not just you;
We all know it's more than just the universe inside you
Midnight strolls looking for love;
Midnight strolls leaving you empty

When John asked me what I wanted to make the story of the song, I jokingly said a stripper. I couldn't think of anything right away, but stripper came to my head. He laughed, and thought about it for a second, then told me he wanted to do it. He left me to write what I wanted, and then we took a break halfway through the process.

The second half of the drive I had already gotten the second and final verse of the song:
You're painting your world black and your pussy blue
You're just as raw as the rest of us and you know it
Syringes won't help and neither will the white dust you find so intriguing
Don't act like you don't see
They don't want you- they want the world inside
They want the atmosphere you keep
They'll take and take until the air you breathe is gassed with poison
Can't keep to yourself;
You need the love they provide
Or is it you they need?
Oh, Miss Monroe, you'd fade away with the breeze

John was really impressed by my lyrics, which made me feel so happy. They were all based on someone I met- a stripper back in Seattle at the bar I was working at by the name of Maggie.
Despite what people thought of her lifestyle, she was beautiful. She cared about people, and she wanted to be a lawyer. Unfortunately, she got involved with drugs, and now she's living in a motel and selling her love for drug money.

She was good company and a very intelligent person. We talked most of my shifts, and she told me about her life. I had never felt more entitled to help a person out than with Maggie.
Lots of time I would buy her a beer and listen to her cry about how much she wished she could go back and change things.

I told John this story, and he said he fell in love with the story behind the song. He wanted this to be one of the singles on the album we released early.  


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