A Whore's Lullabye

Bat those lashes, little whore.
Be easy, or they won't be interested anymore.
Bring those customers to your front door.

Purse your lips, little tramp.
Let them know that pussy's damp.
Let them see your butterfly stamp.

Push up those breasts, little skank.
Use the rich ones, you'll make bank.
With their poles, you must yank.

"Twinkle, Twinkle little whore,
God doesn't love you anymore"
"Up above the world so high,
He doesn't care if you cry"
Twinkle, Twinkle little whore,
what is your soul worth anymore?"