The Hurricane Turns

She was a graduate from the School of Seven Bells,
With so many secrets that she could hardly spill.
She showed me seven kinds of Hell.
It's not alright by me,
These hurricane turns.

She systematically executed routine,
Like a robot greased in Vaseline.
I was a fool because I thought that she had seen,
We were already gone,
With the hurricane turns.

She's the final twist in Medusa's killing list,
She's not dead she has just fallen out of reach.
There is not a line uncrossed or a wrong she didn't breach.

It's not alright by me,
All these hurricane turns.

She systematically executed routine,
Like a robot greased in Vaseline.
I was a fool because I thought that she had seen,
We were already gone,
With the hurricane turns.

Your as cynical as Nietzsche,
If your nature let's burn the trees.
Because there's no more flight to the birds anymore.

It's not alright by me,
All these hurricane turns.