City of Lights (Girl of the Nights)

Bopping on along the bleak, dark street,
A little girl kicks caution away with her feet.
She does her thing, that girl of the nights,
Twitching her back and shaking her guns,
In, what runs, what goes on in the city of lights.
Who knows what the city for her holds or shuns
From time to time, as she works from dime to dime,
For cackling devils echo around every corner.
Despite this being her territory,
She is always a foreigner,
She, the girl of the nights,
She, the girl of the city of lights.
With every car and with every bar,
In each hotel, the girl of the nights will inevitably sell.
She is a hot commodity with her banging hot body,
And thus, there is never a time for her to sleep.
There is only time for money and providing
Her with the sublime and unholy toleration without weeping.
There is little time for concern.
And so it is, and thus it is,
For the lamp never dims for the girl of the nights,
Whom never sleeps during the eternal days
Of the city of lights.