Her hollow eyes, stared through their hollow souls,
ruby lips bought with a Judas kiss,
oh she was just another soul for sale,
it might as well be thirty pieces of gold
for again she has been sold.
It did not matter if she was weak or bold,
it did not matter if her story was ever told.

Another life hidden behind the painted vale,
left behind in her private hell.

Just shut the door and leave her now,
behind the glowing tinsel of a shadow town.
Behind the paint and splattered stains,
years roll along as people move along,
days become a existence lived to long,
her name is all but gone, living only in the shadow of her dreams.

In that sacred place she sees a prince and a better place,
whiter than snow she wear her wedding dress,
he washes her with a tender kiss,
sealing her to his heart with healing lips.

Vapor dreams dissipate and night turns again to day and the
whisper tells her to “Hold on Grace, I will not be long.”

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