Prostitute Lyrics - Richard Dawson

There has to be more than this 

Is there no reason for me to exist 

But for as a plaything of miscreants, malingerers, dastards and knaves? 

How is it so 

A child can be bought for a year's worth of grain? 

In this day and age 

It's hard to explain but it happens again and again 

I'll never forget the scene 

Where the freckled jowls contort across my father's 

Face and disappear under thew wheels of the cart 

Then the sky parts 

Pillar of rain 

It is my mother 

In another life 

If I ever had children of my own 

I'd cleave them to my breast 

And convey them far from this country of demons made flesh 

My last bedfellow is choked to death on a dummy of puke 

I stole this horse, Old Speckled Brownface 

From the royal tannery 

Haunches glossy with sweat 

We burst through the birch 

Turn our heads north 

With dawn in our lungs we reach the border