This song is not me. This is what I imagine what my moms life was like for her. Some of these details I know. Some is imagined. She was addicted to drugs, and alchohol. She lived in Chicago. And she sold her body for money.

This is not my story.
This is her story.
This is my mother.
This is Vallery.

Syrninges, sitting on night stand.
Crumbling the snow in the kitchen.
Gotta 312 goose in my right hand.
Inject into me what I am missin'.

Walking through the streets, bullets fly and I just bob and weave.
Living right down the block from the latest robbery.
But this is where I make my money so I cannot leave,
Hi! I'm Vallery, $80 per hour. That's how I introduce myself properly.
And this life that I live... it makes me sad. So lets talk about addiction.
I'm slow dancing with the devil, just me and him in the room.
I left my mom and dads house when I was 17, because they didnt listen.
Damn... this prescription is looking like the death of me... I assume.
But I ain't wanna die because I love sex.
Last night got paid 120 for the way I made the bed-rock.
I say no. When they ask me if I got regrets.
Moans, boy you might be worth that wed-lock.
Now I'm waking up, damn again... I got pregnant.
I ain't like to use a condom because I love it raw.
They tell me I can raise my price even tho I ain't got the looks, my pussy pleaseant.
Choke me baby, hit me one more time. Aw.
...
Now I'm crying cause this is my life... so let's get wasted.
Coming home to stole denim jeans, Den of Thieves DVDs, literally anything.
Food I bought anything from the vending machine.
WASTED, Raped in the back of they're coupe stripped naked!
WASTED! SO I AINT REMEMBER ANY OF THEY FACES!
WASTED! Getting sober tryna remember what happened... the sex was basic.
WASTED! I was wasted... now I'm so full of hatred...
I'm addicted to drugs that's hard di-gest.
This is my life, cant do no better this Is my-best.
Pain in my-chest.
Takin pills to fix the damage...
Now I gotta take of I kid when I can barely manage...
I wish sometimes I would just vanish...
And never come back to this planet.

Syrninges, sitting on night stand.
Crumbling the snow in the kitchen.
Gotta 312 goose in my right hand.
Inject into me what I am missin'.