Mary Bell - 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