Harlots cry into the night up and down the streets selling their Souls, they moan, they live from day to day hungry. Every night they peddle their wares, misery is their lives, no one to cares.
The winner, the one that bought their wares, believes they own the Harlot’s Souls. The losers who could not pay leave cursing, their hearts cold. Many believe that the streets of wickedness are cursed, because the Harlots crying never ends until they get a free ride in the Undertaker’s hearse.
Peace and Love
Elizabeth Ann Johnson-Murphree Books at Amazon.com