Oldest profession goes on

The fat sweaty man with his money

The fruits of his labours clenched in his hand,

Seeks the desperate abused or poverty stricken women

That will satisfy his needs and his dominion,

This perpetrator of all that’s dirty and seedy

Sticking to the shadows while on his drive by so creepy,

Winding down his window asking will you fuck me

Some women oblige and that’s a sad reality,

Which perpetuates this sordid capacity

For men to fulfill in their duplicity,

Of the upright decent citizen they want us to believe

Hiding away the perverse truth of which the women of the night see.

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