|
↓ Содержание ↓
↑ Свернуть ↑
|
Mary shuffles cards with a trembling hand
Hoping the future will give her a plan.
A shadow in the mirror begins to bloom,
A young man steps out into her room.
"Follow me", he says with a crooked smile,
His voice like a song yet laced with guile.
Through the night into a coach they flee,
A church awaits where fate will decree
To live, to die, or a scary phantom to be
To live, to die, or a scary phantom to be
Candles flicker casting a ghostly glow,
A coffin in the center stands in tow.
Mary's breath catches, her heart takes a leap,
The silence around her feels dark and deep.
The young man's hand as cold as the grave,
Guides her closer though she feels enslaved.
The lid creaks open, the woman stirs,
Her eyes meet Mary's like haunting mirrors.
The woman sits up, her hands reach out,
Mary screams, her mind consumed with doubt.
The man's grin widens, his mouth turns grim,
Talons grow where his teeth had been.
The time has come for ill-fated Mary
To live, to die or an evil wraith to be
Or an evil wraith to be
|
↓ Содержание ↓
↑ Свернуть ↑
|
