Whore's Glory

Concrete hands ghost porcelain skin,
Baby tilts her head back so the image can't sink in
She loans her body to his every need, for a modest fee
All she has to do is close her eyes, and dream of being free
She will not see his awful face,
She will not focus on this dreary place,
Not on the torn curtains and stained sheets
She will dream of Hollywood's busy streets,
She will never even know his name
He will never even know her shame

Her Dreams are fleeting
His wife thinks he's at a business meeting
She will be gone in an hour, back on her corner
He will already have forgotten all about her
Every time it's all the same story,
But that's just the Whore's Glory.

She started young, just like the million faceless others
They were all once the children, wives, and mothers
He found them later, just like every man like him
Once his marriage grew dim, his wife no longer pretty and slim
Back to Baby in his hotel room,
He took a little break, but it's time to resume
Another thirty dollars in
Another thirty seconds focused on sin
Her mind says it'll be okay
Her heart screams, it can't take another day

Her Dreams are fleeting
His wife thinks he's at a business meeting
She will be gone in an hour, back on her corner
He will already have forgotten all about her
Every time it's all the same story,
But that's just the Whore's Glory.

He let her go at four A.m
She heads back to her home, full of people like both of them
Players and pawns
Smiles and yawns
She escapes to her private room, six feet of her own world
She saw the fan on her ceiling and watched as it twirled
This was her plan, the way out, an escape
She hung herself, they found her with mouths agape
Ofcourse she had to explain, so Baby left a note
It was stained in her tears, and tied to the rope around her throat

Her Dreams are fleeting
His wife thinks he's at a business meeting
She will be gone in an hour, back on her corner
He will already have forgotten all about her
Every time it's all the same story,
But that's just the Whore's Glory.