I remember Monica  At the US Open  She mighta been 16  Couldn't've been much more  Answering some questions  And giggling, I'd never seen  Someone so alive on TV before  Do you remember Monica  Shrieking on her backhand  Disguising herself as she went out at night  Coloring her hair  Like someone 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 again?  And then, did everyone who came 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 may 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 will have to pay for our sins