They say she’s in the gutter, never coming up.
She’s far too good for this, but she’s never gonna stop.
Her heart was placed on a spindle, teetering on the top.
The only thing she’s frightened of is who she has become.

She’s in too deep; she’s sinking in her mess.
There’s nothing left to do but leave her in distress.
Let’s face the music, the love she gives is only for her debt.
And last night’s bed was only the first of the rest.

They say she’s given up, no thought behind her words.
She will never again be that innocent little girl.
Her only friends, small, white deathly pearls
That takes her from this place into another world.

She lived in an after-thought, always there yet always forgotten.
‘Good’, she thought, ‘I’ve sinned too much to live in The Garden.’
Although she survives, her life is a toxin
Created by those whom God does not pardon.

They say she is dead, this industry has won.
She gets by, but it’s only just begun.
The days are full of regrets of the things she shouldn’t have done.
And the nights are only there to remind her of why she’s numb.