The police car pulled in to a dark, stinking alley
Full of vile excrement, weeds and all.
There, like a rag doll thrown in a corner
Was a naked body curled in a ball.
In the dim grey light of the early dawn
Among the light rain falling and wind blown trash.
It was hard to see the skin for the bruises,
The face unrecognisable, like a pumpkin smashed.
The frame so thin and the hair all matted,
Only the lower torso showing it had once been a girl.
Someone’s poor daughter had come to this end
All because of giving the needle a whirl.
Who was she? This waif like woman-child?
Will anyone mourn her passing away?
Is there anyone who will shed a tear for her?
Or will she be another statistic for today?

At the top end of the town in a Georgian mews
Teams gather from the TV news and the press.
The police have gone in to see what is there,
What they can sort out from this up-market mess.
The kitchen is stark, all white and chrome,
The ‘fridge is empty but for champagne and ice.
Nothing in the lounge, it’s like a quality show room
So they enter the bedroom, luxury comes at a price.
Up on one wall is a huge black and white poster
Of a stunning young woman with long blond hair.
With skin like silk and the face of an angel,
Her fame is known around the globe everywhere.
Now there she is, alone, like a drape on the bed,
Empty bottles of pills and booze on the floor.
Word has got out and the fans are all weeping
The world will mourn that this girl is no more.