Go Tell Mary....

Go tell Mary she's gonna hurt tonight.
Go tell her that as soon as the wind starts to whip the dust up under the wheels of her car, hell is beginning to roll.
Go tell Mary that she's nothing immaculate.
Go tell Mary that she might as well turn off the radio because nothing will be able to drown out her scream once she starts.

Go warn Mary.
Go warn her not to fall in love.
Warn her that once you fall you're rooted, seeded into the ground.
Once you fall, you're down for the count.
When that wind starts to whip the dust around she'll be chained to the ground exposed to all the horrific elements.

Go tell Mary that when that storm comes she wont be ready.
When it starts to feel ominous, when the lightning backlights the train racing hellbent beside her, she's in for it.
Go tell Mary that there's nothing she can do.
Go tell Mary that when she's chained to that ground she better not hope it just rains,
she better hope it pours.
Let. It. Pour.