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A dancer, Candy, asks you what is wrong,

You tell her, “Men I know just entered,

They will spread word that I’m a slut,”

“Well, you are!  Girl, you’re so self-centered.”


Candy continued dispassionately,

“Look bitch, it comes with the profession,

Inevitably, past acquaintances always find out,

How long it takes is the only question.”


“Why do you think men pay us so well?

Because, well-bred ladies won’t strip for dollar bills,

Their reputations mean more than that.

But cheap whores like us will.”


The manager bursts in, “What the fuck's going on?”

“Oh, Susie Q is just having a bout of remorse,

She naively thought no acquaintances would ever find out,

That she danced nude at the Crazy Horse.”


The manager laughs at her folly,

“You’re no longer a woman deserving of respect,

A girl who shows her cunt for dollars,

Deserves treatment as a cheap sex object.”


“Those men have a large stack of twenties,

And they are specifically requesting you,

So wiggle your girlie little ass out there,

And entertain them with no more ado.”


Candy then provided sage advice,

“Girl, they’ve already seen your new profession,

You can’t put the genie back in the bottle,

Quitting now won’t save your reputation.”


“So, get back out there and wile them,

Make them pay well for the experience,

After all you’re just a whore,

It’s time for your acceptance.”



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