Her shake is like a junkie trapped in the city streets.
Begging for a fix from each person that she meets.
She knows her days are over; her times of fun are gone.
The needle was never important until the damage had begun.
Her walk is like a zombie; she is lost on the graveyard grounds.
I am looking for some love from the men who come around.
She’ll never bear a child or share her deepest passion.
Sex was her addiction; despair was her fashion.
