Her skirt to short; Her hair flung from one side to the other 'gotta dolla, gotta dolla?' Dirty finger nails grazed her hips Red lipstick faded on her cheek With a smile of hypnotic schemes her mind deceiving her towards an out-stretched dream But cursed by suicidal things Suddenly blind like a wristwatch without time She can't tell yesterday from today or tomorrow 'gotta dolla, gotta dolla?' over there, there's a one armed man with graffiti on his feet, face and hand parched skin wrapped like a drum around the tight throat of melody war songs between soldiers and long lost sons' they peer out from piercing bloodshot eyes her blade's serrated. Cigarette tossed aside 'Hey you! Gotta dolla, gotta dolla?