She lives a life of concealed seclusion
She's a captive, a hostage of promiscuous illusion
From outside looking in, it's deceiving prosperity
But the acts you'll witness are degrading vulgarity
She slips off her blouse as he lays currency down
She's praying "Oh God, just don't let me drown"
When it's done and over, it's such a relief
Tears streak her face, yet she turns back to the streets
Her heart is broken and she can't fix it, so the money she made goes straight to addiction
She tries over again to not feel degraded so she numbs all the pain until she's faded
Another fix, another John 
One​​​​​​ more night, one more con..