Down the dark and narrow streets,
Between the alleys of the sinners.
No right, no wrong, just vanity and power,
Just hunger and greed of an immoral life.

Crawling and creeping the spider’s web,
Behind opaque sheets and closed doors.
The gasps of pleasure filled with agony,
The fantasy that shall never be hers till the end.

Just to live a few more moments of pain,
She sold her life little by little, everyday.

Her body, a chalice which many drank from,
Her touch was a haven, a sinners’ den.
She was the mistress of devil himself,
A chaotic beauty, a dark soul she was.

Her mind was a mayhem, a tangled puzzle,
Did she wait for the chirps as the dawn breaks?
Did she yearn for the dusk when man was her slave?
Was she an angel or the devil’s soul?

Just to live a few more moments of pain,
She sold her life little by little, everyday.

Man was a monster, a famished beast,
Clung to her body and caressing her soul.
Pretentious joys and veiled tears,
This was the life of the dead who still lived.

Even black has its shades, a spectrum of diversity,
The darkest was hers that wrapped her soul.
Her heart was just shards of the lovers she had,
She had lost count to her submissive moments.

Just to live a few more moments of pain,
She sold her life little by little, everyday.