How many nights had she walked the street
Hard cruel concrete would torture her feet
The dark dingy street by the Lamoure Hotel
The stagnant breeze with cheap perfume smell
All to oft had her thoughts been obscured
by the wrenching hunger she had endured
Unfaithful husbands, sailors and worse
One last dollar left in her purse
To fend for a child she worked by night
In service of men she would rather fight
In the Lamoure Hotel, her clothes in a pile
Men lay on her belly for more than a while
So next time you think that she is a bother
Just because you don’t know your father
For the love of you she endured hell
Flat on her back in the Lamoure Hotel
.
.
.
Amera





10 old applause
