The soft breeze brushes her face like a strong tycoon,
The sun is up but darkness amidst the moon.
In the wind does she dwell alone,
No one calls on her, her life simply torn.
Blood shot eyes and chattering teeth,
It's warm outside, then why does she need
more warmth to calm her down tonight?
Is it the sorrow? Is it the fright?
The killing smoke of danger in her breath,
She waits near those who inject death.
For the moment she feels bliss, an electric rush
And in her ears words are hushed.
She rolls her eyes in supposed joy
'Cause through her nerves a needle is toyed.
So when it really is cold outside
From this reality how will she hide?
Can someone hold her body, so frail?
Can someone stop her and say " Don't inhale!"
Or say " Don't sniff that sin every night."
'Cause one day she will have to fight
Something worse than what she's going through,
her body on the street, one of the few.
But there's someone crying out to her,
To her He's far, but still so near.
And she's His world through sin and shame,
He years to forgive, to forget the blame.
He is the spirit that will ease her cold,
And there is much her life could hold.
Tonight she can be alive, be free,
Salvation is hers, eternally. - Marie-