In the arms of a different stranger,Each night she'd lay,Hoping to do a super job,And a little more if asked, So she could get enough pay, To get the fix she needs,To make it through yet another day.She has a small daughter,so she must set pay aside,To make sure she gets fed,At times she hates her life, For she knows she'll never,Make an honest wife,Some days she feels so bad,She wished she were dead. For some odd reason,She hangs on tho,Even she's not sure why, She lays there and cries,As she comes down off yet another high.She looks deep into the ceiling,As if it were the sky,She cries out why my Lord why? How did I allow myself,To get into this kind of shape? I don't know how much longer,I can keep up this kind of escape. If there's another way,For me to make an honest pay,Lord take my hand today and show me the way. Because this life of mine,I'm not sure how much longer I can stay,I just know I don't want,To keep going through life this way.