She could be your daughter
   she could be your niece
and both of them can be had
   for thirty dollars apiece

What does it say of us
   when we sell off their innocence
How has it come to this
   have we lost our minds, stop making sense

How many more of our precious ones
   will be bartered off or be sold
Before we come to realize that
   these children are not coins of errant gold

The day will come when we’ll all pay the price
   For we’ve pushed our luck, we’ve all rolled the dice
We’ve turned a blind eye to what’s been done
   We’ll come to regret this when Judgment Day has begun


August 16, 2005
10:00 p.m.