She wasn’t born in that brothel, I’m told Well aware of where she was Well aware of where she’d end up In what position
Dressed in red, down on her knees She’d done this sort of thing before Choking back on this disease Dressed to kill
To die for To die for To die for To die for
Her pretty face hides the demons inside The kind that haunt her in her sleep She was found face down in that ditch Her skirt hiked up All dressed in red, down on her knees She’d done this sort of thing before
Make-up chases the tears down her face The handprints left on her throat He hits her, she’d ask for more He hits her, she asked for
Just a little slut She lost, a little slut She lost, a little slut She lost
Her pretty face hides the demons inside The kind that haunt her in her sleep She was found face down in that ditch Her skirt hiked up