"God, I'm weary.

Sick enough to drop.

Belly feels like fire,

Will the bleedin' ever stop?"

XXX

No one means t' become a whore,

But when all other work has become a chore,

And no one'll look at you twice

'Cept a man, who at first seemed so bloody nice,

But now beats you if you ain't up to snuff,

Well, then and there you've had enough.

But when you're skinny and dirty,

When you're starvin' and weak,

Confused and dizzy on your feet.

When his friendly eyes flash with evil,

You don't notice, 'cause your life's in upheaval.

You've got three little siblings at home,

And Maman is pregnant and all alone,

You're poor and your stomach is eatin' itself,

And Odette won't stop crying and

Pierre sold the shelf.

And Agnès is but two and don't know the world,

And you don't want t' show the horrors t' such a little girl.

You're only fourteen but you're awfully smart,

And though you're a gamin, you've got a kind heart.

And the man wants to help you and offers you food.

But he's a pimp and soon you're nude,

Under a man who's twice your age,

And you're sobbin' and chokin' on your own bloody rage.

Well, you're bleedin' something fierce,

And everything hurts,

And you're weary and sick,

And feel like you've been rubbed down to the quick.

But the man says to

"Put on a happy face,"

'Cause "plenty more like you if you can't keep up the pace."

And then you know you're one in a hundred sluts,

You're not special or different,

'Cept that yer nose juts.

And yer sobbin' again,

And life is dismal and dark.

But you're a Lovely Lady,

And that's now your mark.