Vacant stares consume her eyes; she’s empty behind them due to lies.
The lies she’s told about where she’s laid, she calls it her profession because she gets paid.
Because when money’s short her skirt does the same, she calls it ‘a minor bump on the road to fame’.
And she’s recently disgraced the family name, are you surprised to know her fathers to blame?

He abused her first and now she’s ashamed so she lives amongst felons and girls without names.
Instead of respect they respond to ‘*****’, and for a little lose change they’ll satisfy your itch.
Until one day a man didn’t have change, only a bullet in the chamber and a mind without a cage.
So with that single bullet he turned her page, finished her book and didn’t feel any rage.

Because of that bullet she didn’t reach fame, no money in the bank, or lights around her name.
She died in the dark, writhing in pain, tears mixed with raindrops, her father to blame.

And everyone dis-missed her as crazy, so no one held flowers the day she pushed daises.