| This story’s dark like the place where this story starts, | 
| Full of fiends, and gangsters with gory hearts, | 
| Drugged-up girls dressed up like naughty tarts, | 
| Performing sex, and perverted forms of art, | 
| And anybody with a fantasy that needs fulfilling, | 
| Even the filth, cops that lock up a man for stealing, | 
| For Quent, there bent, sweat dripping off the ceiling | 
| Sadomasochists, who need to quench their thirst with beatings | 
| Anything goes when you’ve got the riches, | 
| But only the sexually depraved pay for pregnant bitches, | 
| Her name’s Katya, he was to do what he wished with, | 
| If you’re into chicks that wake up with morning sickness, | 
| And have to make their way past people fucking, | 
| Punters hooked on hookers hooked on smack, clucking, | 
| Spent a day getting touched up and butt-fucking, | 
| Wishing she’d wake up from the nightmare she was stuck in, | 
| But she weren’t waking up from nothing, this was her reality, | 
| Place where dreams come true for those who lack morality, | 
| She had to get out, if not for her child, for her sanity, | 
| 'Cause the only difference between this place and hell was gravity. | 
| You want the business, runaway, runaway, where the money man? | 
| You want the business, you want the business, the business, the money man? | 
| It was a weird twist of fate, the way that she escaped, | 
| She knew her chance would come, she just had to wait, | 
| 'Til one of her abductors made a mistake, | 
| Mixing vodka with heart pills and smoking a straight, | 
| With the door unlocked, ain’t the smartest idea, | 
| When your runnings are illegal and your cargo live in fear, | 
| The path was now clear, but only for a exit, | 
| 'Cause the road ahead was long, and full of unexpected, | 
| Twists and turns, she learned inadvertently, | 
| How to cope with life’s little moments of uncertainty, | 
| Feeling safe on the street, however absurd it seems, | 
| The mother and baby unit, where she had disturbing dreams, | 
| Was a place she didn’t feel was safe and had to leave, | 
| Would only be a matter of time before she had police, asking her questions, | 
| Finding out the truth about her underworld connections, | 
| Sending her back to the brothel, either that, or simply just deportin' her, | 
| She’s met corrupted law before, she can’t see them supportin' her, | 
| So if she goes along the road, it slowly starts destroyin' her, | 
| Not knowing where she’s going, or why God just keeps ignorin' her. | 
| You want the business, runaway, runaway, where the money man? | 
| You want the business, you want the business, the business, the money man? | 
| Life was hard in the brothel, now it’s hard in the street, | 
| 'Cause English is a language she can hardly speak, | 
| Like so many Eastern European people you meet, | 
| Only difference is they legal and they earning their keep, | 
| She was smuggled into Britain almost four months gone, | 
| She didn’t know she was pregnant 'til she saw the bump, | 
| And now the baby’s here and they’re both on the run, | 
| If she don’t beg, steal and borrow she ain’t no kind of mum, | 
| Her feelings a vicious circle, with a big set of teeth, | 
| The sharper they are, the smarter the thief, | 
| So now she’s broke again and don’t even know it, | 
| Until she reaches for the purse that ain’t hers 'cause she stole it, | 
| To find it ain’t there, I guess you reap what you sow, | 
| It’s a bitch how karma works, it’s hard to work out where she’s going, | 
| Resortin' back to prostitution when traffic is flowin', | 
| Her ride stops and drives off when it sees what she’s towing, | 
| It must be hard knowing that you’re nothing but a peasant, | 
| Game for the hunters to pray on you like pheasants, | 
| Loitering at bus-stops like bored adolescents, | 
| With sex on their mind, 'cause you give off the impression, | 
| That you’d sell yourself for money, not find the thought repellent, | 
| Getting fucked in the field from behind, while you breast feed your child just | 
| so it don’t cry, it’s unpleasant, | 
| But that’s what she did and now we’re back in the present. | 
| Runaway, runaway, runaway, runaway | 
| Runaway, runaway, runaway, runaway |