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Violent Storm

de Lisa Miskovsky

Mary, I'm so sorry
you're hands were taken of this crystal ball
Close to heaven, far from seven angels,
they believe your ovelord

Steming pictures of their bodies
hunts to feed your vision
cold and unberable

Dark, dark, darkness,
Mary's heading for the golden bell
Her coins were not good enough
to throw in their wishing well,
in their wishing well,
they went to hell

Closed her eyes and jumped
int the sea of Mr. loneliness
and his companions
But they couldn't keep her there
her light dissturbed the black and grey
in their living room

Minutes passed and Gabriel he laughed
"You're sole is smelling oh so wonderful
Mary, you're so beautiful, so predictable"
His hands through her hair again,
and then he left

Dark, dark, darkness
Mary's heading for the golden bell
Her coins were not good enough
to throw in their wishing well,
in their wishing well,
in their wishing well

So please come and see me,
I'm to predictable
Please come and see me,
Mary, you're so predictable

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