A Man, Marlboro Cigarettes and Red Strawberries

Heavy metal over the corridor,
Retro wallpapers across the wall.
A boy in red was walking to his crimson motorbike,
A nude woman with wires and a machine gun.
"When does a boy get to be a man ?"
Asked the woman across the table.
Texas Holdem and a glass of champagne,
The boy never becomes a man, Madam.
He is still a boy in the smooth cigarette smoke,
He is still a boy in his father's funeral.
Maybe if he pretends hard enough they may say,
That's a macho ol' cowboy.
But Madam you see don't you,
He is still that little bewildered child,
Just a tad aged, gray and tired.
The only difference being the monsters under the bed.
Maybe for the first time they are real.
Silence slowly became palpable after her tender sip,
As he asked, "Can I offer you some red strawberries ?"