The skin trade

Imagine being so poor
On queer street every day
Talk about recession
With no money to pay

Anything to speak of
Below the rice bowl line
Living on a pittance
For them the sun dont shine

From Nepal or from West Bengal
Or possibly Bihar
Illegally trafficked across the border
Into brothels
Far

Away in Delhi or Mumbai
Or Kolkata possibly
Poorer than our church mouse
These women potentially

Have skin and they have organs
But little else besides
Living in vile ugly tents
Where a mountain devides

Out there in the weather
No where else to go
Selling off their precious skin
Though many do not know

Its for the cosmetic industry
In the US far away
They buy in this tissue
And of course they pay

Its for penis enlargement
And, breast tissue too
So pretty Nepalese women
Receive a cut or two

Too many corrupt surgeries
And these poor women, they
Go to work in brothels
And wake up on the day

With great scars on their backs
Imagining their tricks did it, they
Some dont realise the scam
They are part of every day

There can be no restitution
Its a permanent event
Its almost body snatching
As clearly they are spent

Hostile even ominous
Calamitous as well
Waking up in this state
They know they have reached hell

This is true adversity
Such suffering and pain
Butchers cut their skin away
It really is insane

So the rich and heartless westerners
Can pay for fresh new skin
With no regard to the hapless
Whose fortune had worn thin

Scarred for life for a pittance
The shabbiness we see
These women from the poorhouse
Vagrants never free

From the memory of beggary
And insufficiency
From the skin trade
And a lot of that
Is really spivvery