Sold in Salvador

At first she's a prom girl, but then slurred speech and a vacant look that reads only money, speak of something else entirely. Shake and sigh and So Wrong- in this oldest city- and seem to pray that maybe she gets it together enough that baby daughter wont realise until she can... Handle it? Run her own game? Get the hell out of here? And to where? This is The Where.

You have to pay me.

I don't think anyone cries for them. Desired and reviled for the same thing by the same people. Such a shame at such a price. Lie down with heady everything and stand with condemnation- they are nothing- and you are still clean.. if you forget.

You have to pay me.

And so what? Run drugs or scam gringoes or make something beautiful that no-one ever sees and it's tomorrow again and you're still hungry, and so the fuck what? Stop the screams and the pain and maybe it's a forgotten day or two ahead or maybe just the streets again.

We all sell. But people cry for your pain.