I Am A Prostitute, Sir!

When my door is been knocked

Food cooks over my prestige's stove

For you, it’s business's dirty food

But in night, my daughter doesn't sleep on empty stomach

I am a prostitute, sir!

Food is overpriced than my pride.

Every morning my body broke with pain

His hand through my breast squeezes my heart

For you, it’s necessary pain

But in morning, my daughter goes to school

I am a prostitute, sir!

Today's pain is bearable against her future.

Everyday, I put darkness on my face

Dreams dress up on bed in the face of money

For you, they are pieces of my soul

But my daughter fills color in her book with it

I am a prostitute, sir!

Her happiness is expensive than my body.