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Artist: Plan B
Album:  Ill Manors
Song:   The Runaway
Typed by: jostmatt at bluewin dot ch

[ VERSE 1: Plan B ]
This story's dark like the place where the story starts
Full of fiends and gangsters with gory hearts
Drugged up girls dressed up like naughty tarts
Performin sex and perverted forms of art
On anybody with a fantasy that needs fulfillin
Even the filth, cops'll lock up man for stealin
( ? ) sweat drippin off the ceilin
Sadomasochist that needs to quench the thirst for beatings
Anything goes when you got the riches
But only the sexually depraved pay for pregnant bitches
Her name's Katya, yours to do what you wish with
If you're into chicks that wake up with morning sickness
And have to make their way past people fuckin
Punters hooked on hookers hooked on smack, cluckin
Spend her days gettin touched up on fucked fuckin
Wishin she would wake up from the nightmare she was stuck in
But she wasn't wakin up from nothin, this was her reality
Place where dreams come true for those who lack morality
Tried to get out, if not for her child, for her sanity
Cause the only difference between this place and hell was gravity

He want the business
Runaway, runaway
Where the money, man?
Runaway, runaway
He want the business
Runaway, runaway
He want the business, the business, the money man

[ VERSE 2: Plan B ]
It was a weird twist of fate the way that she escaped
She knew her chance would come, she just had to wait
Till one of her abductors made a mistake
Mixin vodka with hard pills and smokin a straight
With the door unlocked ain't the smartest idea
When your run-ins are illegal, when your cargo live in fear
The path was now clear, but only for her 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 incertainty
Feelin safe on the street, no matter how absurd it seems
The mother and baby unit where she had disturbing dreams
Was a place she didn't feel safe and had to leave
Would only be a matter of time before she had police
Askin her questions, findin out the truth about her underworld connections
Sendin 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 goes along the road it slowly starts destroyin her
Not knowin where she's goin nor why God just keeps ignorin her


[ VERSE 3: Plan B ]
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 illegal when they're earnin their keep
She was smuggled into Britain almost four months gone
She didn't know she was pregnant till 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 kinda mum
Her feelings a vicious circle with a big set of teeth
The sharper the Yard, the smarter the thief
So now she's broke and don't even know it
Till she reaches for the purse and it hurts cause she stole it
To find it ain't there, I guess you reap it, you sow it
It's a bitch how karma works, it's hard to work out where she is goin
Resortin back to prostitution where the traffic is flowin
A ride stops and drives off when it sees what she's towin
It must be hard knowin that you're nothin but a peasant
Game for the hunters, they're preyin you like pheasant
Loiterin at bus stops like bored adolescents
With sex on their mind cause you give off the impression
That you'd sell your soul for money, not find the thought repellent
Gettin fucked in the field from behind while you breast-feed your child so it don't cry is unpleasnt
But that's what she did and now we're back in the present

Runaway, runaway