| She was so clever for her age as a kid
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| She took pride in everything she ever said and did
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| She was born as an angel
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| Ticked every box in the list
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| How could someone so beautiful end up like this?
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| She was bought up in an everyday council estate
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| Had friends and family who were never too far away
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| Even as a kid she’d sometimes lose her temper
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| And if attentions being given
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| Guaranteed she’s in the centre
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| School was a struggle
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| Result of her behaviour
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| Excluded for the fights
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| The same a few days later
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| Cause when she got angry, she’d flip, see red
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| «You're too pretty for the violence,» her mum always said
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| She had high aspirations
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| She was chasing the dream
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| Until her first conviction at the age of fourteen
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| She nearly killed a girl just for looking the wrong way
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| Smashed her head so hard against the ground
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| She was unconscious for days
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| Passers by stop to witness the torture
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| While she stamped on the head of a policeman’s daughter
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| No remorse, for the course, of a Magistrate’s court
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| If was everybody else’s fault of course
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| What you doin' with your night?
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| You’re too young to ruin your life
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| What you doin' with your life?
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| You’re too young to die tonight
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| After that things began to slip out of grip
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| And her grades were failing but she didn’t give a shit
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| She was top dog at school
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| And all the girls were scared
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| And when she walked through the corridors all the boys stared
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| She craved to be wanted, she didn’t care how
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| She wanted everything including this guy Ben she liked now
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| He was 19, liked fighting and smoking the green
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| He was a dealer had a beamer
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| She thought he was a dream
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| She got his number, «are you OK?»
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| Text back, Chelsea Price
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| It was Monday they agreed to meet up on Friday night
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| She played it cool
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| The whole week she wondered what to wear
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| She planned her jewellery, her make-up, her shoes and her hair
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| The days went so slow, her school was so boring
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| But before she knew it it was already Friday morning
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| She was nervous and scared, but in a good way
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| She had no idea that it was no ordinary day
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| When she walked down the stairs, it was seven o’clock
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| He was coming at eight she had to iron her top
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| Seven forty five came and she looked gorgeous
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| Rapunzel let out too early from the fortress
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| She gets in the car says, «Hi,» they drive off
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| They head to a car park, where he can skin up
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| She gets into conversation, nods and smiles
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| And she feels so happy and not even shy
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| A girl pulls up, she sees Ben and screams
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| He puts the car in gear and gets ready to leave
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| This girl gets out of the car and stands in front
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| She screams, «That's my fucking boyfriend, get out you little…»
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| Chelsea turns to Ben who just shrugs
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| She don’t believe her
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| She’s never been scared and she’s not today either
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| She puts her hand on the door and gets out to fight
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| She’s angry now this bitch has just ruined her night
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| The two girls clash, hair pulling, fists flying
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| Chelsea sees blood gushing
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| The other steps back crying
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| Chelsea grins as she thinks she’s won
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| Then she looks at Ben’s face who’s completely stunned
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| Then there’s a pain in the middle of her stomach
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| The blood’s on her t-shirt
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| The other girl starts running
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| Chelsea’s heart thuds, panic sets in more
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| As she looks down at the pool of blood
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| And there’s a knife on the floor
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| She hears tyres screech she’s losing so much blood
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| Ben’s car’s gone he’s got a boot full of drugs
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| She lies there eyes wide open facing the sky
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| Thoughts float out of her mind as she questions why
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| Her last movements are the tears she’s crying
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| She thinks about her family as she lies there dying
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| She’s alone on her own because of the violence
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| Can’t hear people or friends or help or sirens
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| She whispers «I'm sorry,» there’s no one on the way
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| As she returns to an angel, and her soul slips away |