| An old man vacationing,
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| He stands patiently,
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| Under a hotel sign that blinks «vacancy».
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| He’s thinking maybe he’s too late to make the drop off,
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| Until a truck comin' his way breaks his thought short.
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| And now he’s out of sorts, you can see he’s sorta nervous.
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| Walking to the passenger door to meet his ordered service (?).
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| «This is someones daughter working"blinks his conscience,
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| when the driver says «she's my youngest, her name is constance.»
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| He comments «And it’s only six dollars a visit, just don’t leave any marks on
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| her, it hurts business.»
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| Thought for a minute, and confessed «Thats fair,"sense it was three dollars
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| less than his cab fair.
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| «How old are you honey?»
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| She says «I'm thirteen,».
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| Her nose is runny, it’s raining in the Philippines.
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| He handed over the money in a chilling scene, the truck drives off and now he’s
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| on a hunt to kill her dreams.
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| The sign blinks «No Vacancy».
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| He leads Constance to her room, he is ready for tapin'.
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| See, he’s about to turn six into six thousand.
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| And all you gotta do is click on your web browser.
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| It’s not illegal to use rapin' as a cash crop, as long as it says she’s 18 on
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| your laptop.
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| The sound of rain is the backdrop,
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| layin' there,
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| like she’s waitin' for someone to say they care,
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| while the tears of God fall down the window pane,
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| she feels unholy, like the Father doesn’t know her name.
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| Mary Magdalen, and the women at the well, he knew everything that happened,
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| and in His arms she fell.
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| (In His arms she fell fell fell)
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| (Will you stay with me?)
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| He’s 21 and all alone in his household,
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| He’s tempted by the quiet he feels and the mouse he holds.
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| The silence of his spouse is cold,
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| so he’s about to help that man get his six thousand gold.
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| One click and now she’s sold,
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| Withholding his conscience,
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| Scrollin' through he comments,
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| There she is looking confident,
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| A picture of Constance and a series of video clips,
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| «Adult content.»
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| The title blinks in bold letters, like the vacancy sign,
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| it’s his time to go get her.
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| It’s like his mind doesn’t know better,
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| Her soul is cryin out «Let me go"but he won’t let her.
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| He’s got her trapped inside his media player,
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| Held captive by a need to be player.
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| It’s a matter of he bein' here and she bein' there,
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| Thats why he doesn’t feel the need to care.
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| Guilt is in the seed he bears,
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| Fillin' his shares of the profit on a 500 million dollar market where children
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| are regarded as product,
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| and traded like stock tips,
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| and raped for the sake of our pockets,
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| His laptop sits like a window into Constance’s room,
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| where he exits cause it’s almost noon,
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| and he’s expecting his wife home soon,
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| with new clothes for the baby,
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| she’d be angry if she saw his new lady,
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| a 13 year old Filipino named Constance.
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| Trust me girl, God has not forgotten.
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| He knew Mary Magdalen, and the woman at the well.
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| He knows everything that happens, and in his arms she fell.
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| (In his arms she fell fell fell)
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| (Will you stay with me?) |