She wasn't born in that brothel I'm told 
Well aware of where she was 
Well aware of where she'd end up
In what position 
Dressed in red down on her knees, 
She'd done this sort of thing before 
Choking back on this disease 
Dressed to kill

To die for
To die for
To die for
To die for

Her pretty face hides the demons inside 
The kind that haunt her in her sleep 
She was found face down in that ditch 
Her skirt hiked up 
Dressed in red down on her knees
She'd done this sort of thing before 

Make up 
Chases the tears down her face 
The handprints left on her throat 
He hits her she'd ask for more 
He hits her she'd ask for

Just, a little slut
She lost, a little slut
She lost, a little slut
She lost...

Her pretty face hides the demons inside 
The kind that haunt her in her sleep 
She was found face down in that ditch 
Her skirt hiked up