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 empty stomach
I am a Prostitute, Sir!
Food is overpriced than my pride.
Every morning my body broke up 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 colour in her book with it
I am a Prostitute, Sir!
Her happiness is expensive than my body.
