The Runaway Songtext - Plan B

The Runaway - Plan B

This story's dark like the place where this story starts
Full of fiends, and gangsters with gory hearts
Drugged-up girls dressed up like naughty tarts
Performing sex, and perverted forms of art
And anybody with a fantasy that needs fulfilling
Even the filth, cops that lock up a man for stealing
For Quent, there bent, sweat dripping off the ceiling
Sadomasochists ?
Anything goes when you've got the riches
But only the sexually depraved pay for pregnant bitches
Her name's Katya, he was to do what he wished with
If ya into chicks that wake up with morning sickness
And have to make their way past people fucking
Punters hooked on hookers hooked on smack, cluckin'
Spent a day getting touched up and butt-fucking
Wishing she'd wake up from the nightmare she was stuck in
But she weren't waking up from nothing, this was her reality
Place where dreams come true for those who lack morality
She had to get out, if not for her child, for her sanity
'Cause the only difference between this place and hell was gravity

You want the business, runaway, runaway, where the money man?
You want the business, you want the business, the business, the money man?
You want the business, you want the business, the business, the money man?

It was a weird twist of fate, the way that she escaped
She knew her chance would come, she just had to wait
'Till one of her abductors made a mistake
Mixing vodka with heart pills and smoking a straight
With the door unlocked, ain't the smartest idea
When your runnings are illegal and your cargo live in fear
The path was now clear, but only for a exit
'Cause the road ahead was long, and full of unexpected
Twists and turns, she learned inadvertently
How to cope with life's little moments of uncertainty
Feeling safe on the street, however absurd it seems
The mother and baby unit, where she had disturbing dreams
Was a place she didn't feel was safe and had to leave
Would only be a matter of time before she had police, asking her questions
Finding out the truth about her underworld connections
Sending her back to the brothel, either that, or simply just deportin' her
She's met corrupted law before, she can't see them supportin' her
So if she goes along the road, it slowly starts destroyin' her
Not knowing where she's going, or why grudgers ? keep ignorin' her

You want the business, runaway, runaway, where the money man?
You want the business, you want the business, the business, the money man?
You want the business, you want the business, the business, the money man?

Life was hard in the brothel, now it's hard in the street,
'Cause English is a language she can hardly speak,
Like so many Eastern European people you meet,
Only difference is they legal and they earning their keep,
She was smuggled into Britain almost two months gone,
She didn't know she was pregnant 'till they saw the bump,
And now the baby's here and they're both on the run,
If she don't beg, steal and borrow she ain't no kind of mum,
Her feelings a vicious circle, with a big set of teeth,
The sharper they are, the smarter the thief,
So now she's broke again and she don't even know it,
Until she reaches for the purse and it hurts 'cause she stole it,
To find it ain't there, I guess you reap what you sow,
Its a bitch how karma works, it's hard to work out where she's going,
Resortin' back to prostitution when the traffic is flowin',
Her ride stops and drives off when it sees what she's towing,
Must be hard knowing that you're nothing but a peasant,
Game for the hunt, its the prairie like pheasant,
Loitering at bus-stops like bored adolescents,
With sex on their mind, 'cause you give off the impression,
That you'd sell yourself for money, not find the thought repellent
Getting fucked in the field from behind,
For you best feed your child just so it don't cry, its unpleasant
But that's what she did and now we're back in the present
Runaway, runaway, runaway, runaway
Runaway, runaway, runaway, runaway


Video: The Runaway von Plan B

Teilen

Zeige deinen Freunden, dass dir The Runaway von Plan B gefällt:

Kommentare