Cross the woodsThe stream, a relaxing muse as we go,the trees loom above us and watch us below.We trot through the forest and trample the moss.We carry the man who was nailed to a cross.We soon find a hill and shove it in the dirt.The man whimpers above us; he's trembling and hurt.We leave him there hanging, we leave him to dieon the sun-kissed hill where we all shall soon lie.
Damsel in DistressTo Whom It May Concern,I sit in a tower that I locked myself in.I married my captor back when I was in love with him.I lay here in my chamber and I'm waiting to be saved,for I can't escape this place alone; I'm practically enslaved.Maybe I had poor judgement skills- that's why I'm in this mess.It's all my fault. I've doomed myself. -A Damsel in Distress
Turn the screwsTwo black screws on the side of my headdrill into my brain when you say what you've said.You turn the screws whenever you please.You call me names, I start to bleed.With every kick, with every jab,the screws go deeper as they stab;they pierce my heart, they pierce my head,leaving nothing behind for I'm broken and dead.
AvalancheYou slapped me with a bitter wind,you beat me with stale stinging snow,bombarded me for absent sins;if I did commit them, I wouldn't know.You sent a freezing storm my way,no warning, on a normal day,you sent a blizzard, attacked my soul,leaving a chilling gust to echo in the blank, barren hole.