(Every night when we visit the bar girls on Bangla Road, I see free-lance prostitutes on the streets.)
As I reflect on their faces and countenances…these are some of the musings of my heart stirred in observing them and their interactions with potential customers on the streets + some photos I snapped the other night.
Alone I stand on the streets night after night.
My tightest clothes, my tallest heels…still something’s not quite right.
I comb my hair a few extra times, and put on cover-up…
perhaps they’re blind.
Can they not see me here? I’m standing in plain view?
Why will no one pick me? Are they afraid of what they’ll do?
My tightest clothes, my tallest heels…still something’s not quite right.
I comb my hair a few extra times, and put on cover-up…
perhaps they’re blind.
Can they not see me here? I’m standing in plain view?
Why will no one pick me? Are they afraid of what they’ll do?
Business is tough…what with these bar girls and all.
The touristy men find choosing them more noble…choosing me would make their practice an obvious fault.
I stand up straight, I stand up tall…I keep wondering when I’ll get a call.
My shirt is cut low. Am I showing enough leg?
I wonder if tonight I’ll get to sleep in a bed.
Walking, walking, people walking.
Talking, talking, people talking.
Dancing, dancing, people dancing.
Drinking, drinking, people drinking.
Here I stand alone…trying to stop thinking.
I wonder if tonight I’ll get to sleep in a bed.
Walking, walking, people walking.
Talking, talking, people talking.
Dancing, dancing, people dancing.
Drinking, drinking, people drinking.
Here I stand alone…trying to stop thinking.
The alcohol numbs some of pain…but that’s only until it starts to digest. I haven’t eaten in days.
I guess they’re right in what they said. I’m pretty worthless, I’m better left dead.
They once thought I was pretty, now I’m far too skinny.
They once thought I was pretty, now I’m far too skinny.
If I can just catch one eye…show them a little thigh.
The prices these days are high…oh damnit, I’ll give him another try.
“Sir, excuse me sir! What will your pleasure be?”
Pushing my arm away, he chases his buddy down the curb.
I retreat back to my post, scanning this hungry drunken herd.
Rejection, rejection, it crawls over me like a plague.
I’m nauseous. I’m tired. I wish things weren’t this way.
Crawling back to my little spot on the curb. I stand waiting…and waiting…and waiting some more.
One day I’ll be in the arms of someone I love…
but for now, all I’m doing is getting the job done.
They try to hold my hands, but all they want is a one night stand.
I’ll sell myself for just the right fee…I wonder if I stopped, who could I BE?
