Purgatory was for Lisa Jones
An Eternity of writing love poems
Sad and Sick and filled with misty quips
Bout Blackened eyes and bloody lips
See Mr. Jones had been a mean old man
With violent eyes and angry hands
So on a Tuesday night she shot him dead
Done had enough of all his shit
Said wow.... Had a glass of wine
Chased it down with a suicide
To this day she don't mind what her curse is
More concerned with her verses
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