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She was all of seventeen

When he turned forty-one

And when she stepped into his dream

Her nightmare had begun

He pictured her as something

He had felt but never seen

Except maybe at the grocery checkout

On a magazine

Magazine, Magazine, Magazine

He was living with his Mom

When Mommy up and died

And left him with a terminal

Of baggage packed inside

He pictured Mom as something

He had seen but never felt

Except when she rolled a magazine

And raised another welt

Magazine, Magazine, Magazine

When she declined to talk

He felt inclined to stalk

Outside her door he crept

As sleeping beauty slept

He knew his Mom would say

His wanting her was quite obscene

He took one last warm breath and

Loaded a full magazine

Magazine, Magazine, Magazine

She was all of seventeen

When they were laid to rest

Somehow it all comes down

On Mommy’s precious breast

He pictured her as something he

Had felt but never seen

And now they’re on the cover of

A Tabloid magazine

Magazine, Magazine, Magazine

Magazine, Magazine, Magazine