Stuck in the devil's turnstiles,
where the patron pays cash
for stilettos and stockings,
mocking fame,
with the right frame,
the yell!!! of the harlot,
queued and barbered
in the dead-end
of the pimps game.
They are conditioned to suffer
they are trapped, judged and jailed
still, they are human in the deep end of wrong choices and there are devils who keep them there