At the age of seventeen
Marie was squeaky clean
Never seen the likes of before
dream queen of the fashion scene
and by that I mean that was what she saw in her head
in reality all she had in life was a supermarket salary
a calorie obsession, profession was a riot
She possessed the physicality
Vanity, above all else the derrière
that in anything she wear
men all stare at the premiere
And with a bust on her bum
she was gullible too
she would trust anyone just like some of us do
Her downfall, out on the town ol’
brow the unconfident, look at her crown fall

Enter raw villain, he’s a Bob Dylan look-alike
crooked type, tells young Marie he been watching her
that he’s a photographer can he take some shots of her
incredible face
back at his place maybe later
she travels back to his place
it’s a disgrace, left the safety of her friends
You’re pervert, then she takes off her shirt
and as he snaps away she goes:

Ahh ahh aw oh ah ow, ahh ahh aw oh ah ow,
ahh ahh aw oh ah ow, ahh ahh aw oh,
ahh ahh aw oh…

It’s pretty clear that this dude with the camera is having her
mistaken for a mug, but Marie won’t pull the plug
He says; “Your breasts are magnificent”
Signs of looking sinister administers force
and then he takes away her innocence
Whispers in her ear that if she doesn’t tell a soul that
the rock ’n’ roll lies for the taking
star in the making who get a front cover
if she seeks it
what just happened there, she gotta keep it a secret
Marie looks blank and then agrees
drops to her knees like some sorted appraisal
then he forces dust up her nasal orifice
proper little horror fest
Marie is in a sorry mess
Three days later, Marie has got her tits out
then her other bits out, labeled with the slut tag
This ain’t pay tree, this is top-shelf smack mag
as he snaps away
he says: “Darling, can you please say…”

Ahh ahh aw oh ah ow, ahh ahh aw oh ah ow,
ahh ahh aw oh ah ow, ahh ahh aw oh,
ahh ahh aw oh…

Marie couldn’t have been less
other pretty princess
acting like a rabbit of her porn
the she’d grab it just to pay for her habit
that she never ever wanted
Packets of tablets, skulkers of her features
nothing that her mother could solve
or now her teachers
Should’ve been alive on the catwalk
instead she coming out with skank-talk
developed a sad-walk
The only time she laughed was is for a triple X movie smile
juvenile, money-shot, funny walk
happened to her next was bizarre
I mean funny as in strange, not Ha-Ha
In her bar like a hooker type
Marie looked up and saw the Bob Dylan look-alike
up she stepped, like a possessed little she-devil
far from level-headed, she dreaded the sight of him
Followed him home and through the backdoor saw him
sleeping in his bed, she set fire to his residence

Ahh ahh aw oh ah ow, ahh ahh aw oh ah ow,
ahh ahh aw oh ah ow, ahh ahh aw oh,
ahh ahh aw oh…

The latest fashion, a crime of passion…

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