Let me tell you what I’m talkin’ about
Let me tell you, now; let me tell you what I’m talkin’ about

Well, I don’t recall the place or the time;
I was just a runaway, meandering through Covent Gardens
No destination in mind
Knew I had to get away;
Teenage hearts are quick to harden.

But he offered a ride and more
New career on a distant shore, and now

Now I’m just a whore
Is that all you want me for?
Is it, babe?
For your distant shore?

Let me tell you what I’m talkin’ about
Let me tell you, now; let me tell you what I’m talkin’ about

Daily I secure the clientele
“You don’t really look your age.”
A well-worn line for distant wives.
Powder and paint lie very well
Filling in the cracks and grooves
The inheritance of broken lives
But what would you have me do?

If the INS came I wouldn’t know where to greet ‘em
The johns are dogs; I just live to feed ‘em
The brick wall spares me gravity’s kiss
The halls are a labyrinth, an endless abyss
But once a day, I get to see the sky
That’s when I scour the blue, and I ask Him why
Was I put on this Earth for something more?
Or will I always, forever be a whore?

Am I, God?
Am I just a whore?
Is that all you built me for?
Is it, God?
Am I just a whore?

Is that all you built me for?
Oh no

Well a dollar doesn’t buy much these days…dollar doesn’t buy much these days…no,
A dollar doesn’t buy much these days; a man’s gotta buy his touch these days
So come on, babe
So come on, babe

© Kurt Riley, 2016.