Little girl, alone in the world
Sold her innocence for a fistful of coins.
How's it feel to grow up
In a world of counterfeit emotion?
How'd you like the grown-up show?
Was it everything you thought it would be,
Or was it nothing but hungry depravity,
Searching for an innocent meal?
Go on, now, cry yourself to sleep,
For you'll never close your eyes again
Without the faces looming in.
To be free is not to know;
Captivity begins with captivation,
And in order to see the grown-up show,
All innocence must go.
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