One time, I was in the bus,
Four women were talking about my mom.
Very loud, don't know why,
But I stepped further.
They knew almost everything about us,
One was a friend with my father' second wife
And they were on her side, gossiping about my mother.
Then one said something about me,
My sister: we wear miniskirts, high hills,
We want many men of course.
And I didn't have a boyfriend,
Was going to school, working part time,
Could buy my own stuff.
I was standing right near them,
They had no idea who I was.
I thought of telling my mother,
I knew she would start a new war.
It bacame funny and didn't bother me at all,
I knew myself, who I was.
