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As she walks among the shadows of a valley called death
She secretly longs to take her last breath
So tired of hearing religious men preach,
“Believe in our God, trust what we teach!”
So she reaches out to lonely men who worship her pleasures
with praises of, “Oh God!” as they lay.
She’s found a religion of service for pay.
As she sucks dry their souls she feeds her power,
Momentary satisfaction, getting paid by the hour
They don’t ask for much, just her time for a day
Leaving their money when they go on their way
She satisfies their lust and desires,
Then sends them home to their wives,
Where they feel no guilt over living as liars
So called “good Christian” parishioners call her a whore,
Citing Gods loving forgiveness, as they sneer then slam their doors.
All of them lending their hands to her hurt and her pain
Nobody bothering to ask from where it came
Inside her cold stare and empty glare
There’s a story of a “good Christian” woman who once lived there.
Night after night, day after day
Parishioners come and reward her with pay
Then one lonely day her silent wish comes true,
She draws her last breath
Succumbing to death
Nobody comes, nobody mourns
She’s known only as, the woman who loved an angel with horns.
The men who once came pretend she never existed
When they give their confessions she’s not even listed
Now, she’s a shadow in the valley called death,
Waiting for the next whore who takes her last breath.