Perhaps she¡¯ll die for crimes adamantly denied.
|
Shape-shifting words of serpents¡¯ tongues
|
Escaping from the mouths of young.
|
Flipping through the matchbook
|
My fingers feel the flames.
|
The hangman¡¯s noose can taste our lies¡¦
|
Now it wants our best.
|
|
They bred poor Annabelle in a trophy room of blackened skulls.
|
They held a wonderful feast where everyone dined alone.
|
Still wet from birth in a sinking cage,
|
Seventy-one floating souls
|
One hundred forty-two defiant stares; so brave.
|
|
Here comes the rectory licking it¡¯s chops!
|
Hungry for a Lamb to prey upon,
|
They¡¯re taking this too far.
|
|
"She will learn, or she will burn."
|
Will she learn?
|
|
Watch now as they skin her words alive!
|
The church bells ring, the choir sings, for confessions of a guiltless crime!
|
This textbook fire; young lies for hire;
|
As Annabelle recites her rosaries.
|
|
Hear her cries adamantly defied!
|
The children swear, their teeth are bared,
|
She knows this is her cross to bear.
|
Snow comes down tonight reflecting Anna¡¯s white¡¦
|
Their vacant lord knocking down her door
|
Knows she has nowhere to hide.
|
|
They bred poor Annabelle in a trophy room of blackened skulls.
|
They held a wonderful feast where everyone dined alone.
|
Still wet from birth in a sinking cage,
|
Seventy-one floating souls
|
One hundred forty-two defiant stares; so brave.
|
|
She stumbles forward; they close the village gates behind her back¡¦
|
Her gown¡¯s a dirty white, "She will be purified tonight!"
|
|
We watched the bodies burn one by one.
|
The children carried stolen lanterns filled with rotting diamonds.
|
Seventy-one bodies lit the valley below,
|
The embers dancing pirouettes above Witch Mountain¡¯s snow.
|
|
She will burn.
|
(She burns, she bleeds. She wants. She screams.)
|
She¡¯s burning bright¡¦
|
|
-----------------
|
Spider Inside Her
|
| A Girl A Gun A Ghost |
