Small Town ***
She walks around Wimbledon,
Oblivious to her fate,
She's bought her stuff; she's off to leave,
But is drawn like a fish to the bait.
She sees the young man walking,
Walking without a care,
He looks in pain; she want's to help,
But all she can do is stare.
You see this man isn't normal,
There's something quite not right,
Angel want's to turn, she wants to run,
But he never leaves her sight.
He beckons her towards him,
And in a trance she obeys,
He asks for help, seems innocent and fair,
Angel's mood suddenly sways.
She takes the biggest bag,
And helps the man to his home,
When he offers her in, for a warm drink,
Before she goes back to the cold.
Angel sees him clearly,
As wanting to be friends,
But he locks the door, she starts to panic,
But he wants to make amends.
He shows her to his living room,
And tells her to take a seat,
He's got a nice place, Angels thinks to herself,
Then she hears metal objects clink.
She wonders quite smartly,
What's he really doing?
She goes to the kitchen, he's just there.
Only making the drinks.
She goes back to the living room,
It's just paranoia, she thinks,
He comes back in, one hand behind his back,
And her heart begins to sink.
She asks him what's going on,
When he covers her mouth roughly,
Takes out a knife, stabs her once,
She bits oh his hand toughly.
There was no one around,
Neighbours were on holidays,
She screams for help, in agony too,
But the empty streets never change.
Soon the royal blue carpet,
Beings to soak the blood,
As Angel screams, as he stabs again,
With a burning sense of lust.
After one last final strike,
Driven into her heart,
Angel dies, oh so unrecognizable,
After she and her souls parts.
He takes her bloody corpse,
To the back of Centre Court,
He dumps her there, then runs for his life,
Bus he still got caught.
He was convicted guilty,
Of the murder of Angel McCleay,
He faces a life in prison,
Thank God for a clever jury.
Angel's body was lost,
But she's said to haunt the town,
In the shops, in the village,
Angel's ghost remains in Wimbledon.
That’s the end of this story,
A lesson to be learned,
Never trust if you have a bad feeling,
They may be a nice person turned.
If you see Miss McCleay,
She'll be gory and scared,
Crying in pain, warning you all,
How she wishes she never cared.
Listen to her pleas,
Every child, husband and wife,
She means well, Angel wants to help,
She may just save your life.
Oblivious to her fate,
She's bought her stuff; she's off to leave,
But is drawn like a fish to the bait.
She sees the young man walking,
Walking without a care,
He looks in pain; she want's to help,
But all she can do is stare.
You see this man isn't normal,
There's something quite not right,
Angel want's to turn, she wants to run,
But he never leaves her sight.
He beckons her towards him,
And in a trance she obeys,
He asks for help, seems innocent and fair,
Angel's mood suddenly sways.
She takes the biggest bag,
And helps the man to his home,
When he offers her in, for a warm drink,
Before she goes back to the cold.
Angel sees him clearly,
As wanting to be friends,
But he locks the door, she starts to panic,
But he wants to make amends.
He shows her to his living room,
And tells her to take a seat,
He's got a nice place, Angels thinks to herself,
Then she hears metal objects clink.
She wonders quite smartly,
What's he really doing?
She goes to the kitchen, he's just there.
Only making the drinks.
She goes back to the living room,
It's just paranoia, she thinks,
He comes back in, one hand behind his back,
And her heart begins to sink.
She asks him what's going on,
When he covers her mouth roughly,
Takes out a knife, stabs her once,
She bits oh his hand toughly.
There was no one around,
Neighbours were on holidays,
She screams for help, in agony too,
But the empty streets never change.
Soon the royal blue carpet,
Beings to soak the blood,
As Angel screams, as he stabs again,
With a burning sense of lust.
After one last final strike,
Driven into her heart,
Angel dies, oh so unrecognizable,
After she and her souls parts.
He takes her bloody corpse,
To the back of Centre Court,
He dumps her there, then runs for his life,
Bus he still got caught.
He was convicted guilty,
Of the murder of Angel McCleay,
He faces a life in prison,
Thank God for a clever jury.
Angel's body was lost,
But she's said to haunt the town,
In the shops, in the village,
Angel's ghost remains in Wimbledon.
That’s the end of this story,
A lesson to be learned,
Never trust if you have a bad feeling,
They may be a nice person turned.
If you see Miss McCleay,
She'll be gory and scared,
Crying in pain, warning you all,
How she wishes she never cared.
Listen to her pleas,
Every child, husband and wife,
She means well, Angel wants to help,
She may just save your life.