Stevie stood at the mirror,
Staring with big blue eyes.
Stevie turned side on,
Ran hands down silky thighs.
A touch of blusher here,
A dab of scent just there.
Stevie was ready to hit the town,
Without a single care.
The bars were full of drunken slobs,
Each with his own Harpy.
But Stevie ignored all their stares,
Stevie wanted to party.
A drink was bought, a shy mouth smiled,
And Stevie smiled right back.
Then they headed for the door,
To escape the boozy pack.
In the dark of a quiet alley,
Lips were crushed together.
Stevie was floating on the air,
Heart just like a feather.
A hand grabbed and pulled the silk,
So carefully ironed before.
A push, a kick, and then a punch,
Stevie was on the floor.
Surrounded now by sweaty men,
Glasses still in hands.
The painted tarts standing behind,
The yobs had brought their fans.
The boots rained down on Stevie's form,
The bones began to snap.
The men going at it with a will,
As the women began to clap.
Stevie now just stays at home,
Ashamed of his battered face.
He crosses the room with a limp,
Stevie has lost his grace.
He dreams of days long gone by,
When he was young and fresh.
And silver tears run down his face,
Across the tattered flesh.
He was born too soon it seems,
To live life as he must.
Coming out now would not be hard,
With gay friends he could trust.
"Things have changed" he tells himself,
"The kids can be quite free.
They won't have to suffer the pain
I did by being me."
Stevie sits to watch the news,
His heart feels fit to break.
The battered body of a young man,
Was dredged up from the lake.
Beaten to death for being queer,
The hate just never ends.
Another life thrown in the dirt,
Another teen without friends.
The pain it all comes flooding back,
It is too much to bear.
Stevie goes to find a scarf,
Then climbs up on a chair.
It's weeks before Stevie is found,
The neighbours complained of the smell.
And while the drunks laughed at the tale,
Stevie escaped his hell.