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