They Called Her Jane Doe
She worked the streets, selling what she had
Little left in life for her
She made her choices, most of them were bad
Hoping God would forgive her
They would cuss her, for what she had to sell
Then turn right around and pay her fee
She had a big habit to feed, it was a living hell
In a trap, she knew that she would never be free
They found her one cold night
She had a needle in her arm
And a monkey on her back under a dim light
That high had lost it's charm
Covered in blankets of snow, she froze to death that night
Later, on a cold slab, with a tag on her toe
The question lingered, Would God make it right
They just called her, Jane Doe

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