I Predict A Riot Lyrics

"Please, stop pushing. I can't take this anymore." The concert venue is packed tight. A man behind me keeps pressing into my backside. I'm wearing a mini skirt today with a thong underneath, and it only makes the situation worse. He lifts my skirt and presses himself against my hips. As the atmosphere heats up, someone in front of me slams into me, and I stumble back a step. My body stiffens as I feel like something just slid inside me.

I have the ability to see how people will die. The day my divorce is finalized, I'm hit by an electric scooter and sent flying. When I wake up, I see a line of text above the nurse's head. It reads, "27 years old. Breast cancer in eight years." I pick up my phone. The first name in my contacts is my ex-wife, Caroline Meyer. After a moment's hesitation, I open her social media. Her latest post shows her and her new boyfriend vacationing in Marencia, captioned, "Forever starts with you." The location tag says it was posted three hours ago. We only finalized our divorce the day before. Later, I get a voice message from my daughter. "Daddy, Mommy says I can't go to her new house anymore. Her boyfriend doesn't like kids." I clutch my phone and head out to pick her up, only to run into Caroline's father, John Meyer, outside the apartment building. Above his head, the words read, "62 years old. Carbon monoxide poisoning in three months." The moment John sees me, he starts yelling. "What a loser! My daughter should've divorced you years ago! Her new boyfriend is young, handsome, and owns three houses. What do you have?" I glance at the words above his head, then slowly delete the warning text message I'd already typed out. After that, I take my daughter's hand and say, "Come on. I'm taking you out for burgers."

On the day of the mating ceremony, a crazed witch bursts in and points straight at me, shrieking, "Six years later, your Alpha will betray you!" Troy Hudson, my soon-to-be mate, turns livid. He swats the purple-glowing crystal ball from her hand, shattering it on the floor. "Nonsense! Estelle is my fated mate! I'll only ever love her in this lifetime!" After that, he becomes even more devoted to me. At the Moon Goddess' altar, he drapes the Luna shawl over my shoulders. He marks me with his scent so the entire pack knows I belong to him. Every full moon, he deepens the mark on my neck, whispering that I am his forever. I believe his love is unbreakable until our sixth anniversary. A box waits at our front door. Inside lies a pair of lace panties and a photograph. In the photo, Troy is pressed over his foster sister, Rue Youngblood, the wolf tattoo on his body glowing faintly. His hand grips her waist, his eyes burning with the same heat I've dreamed of a million times. And Rue? She's wearing that same pair of panties. On the back of the photo, written in ink as red as blood, is a line of pure provocation. "The Alpha's heart may belong to you, but his body belongs to me." Agony ripped through my chest, yet not a single tear fell. Instead, I rest my hand on my belly and quietly send word to the Witch Association. "I accept your invitation. Please help me vanish."

"You bastards! You’re worthless! How can you not bring me that woman?” I shouted nervously looking around me at how pathetic my people were. Everyone was silent, and that made me even more p*ss*d off. I had already exited through the back door of the auditorium, so nothing stopped me from spilling my guts on those who disobeyed my orders. So, I punched in all directions and I knocked down whoever fell victim to my fury of blows to the ground. I punched until I was literally tired. “I must have this woman! Do you understand? You will bring her to me whether she wants it!”

Death is like a rain you cannot stop. Are you bound to be saved? Or bound to die? I saw you die.

❝I was given specific instructions to have you talk about your sister's murder and gauge your anger. If you do not do this, you will fail and you'll have to go back to the asylum and spend another six years,❞ She explained. 'Is that what you want?'❝You don't give a fuck about what I want, your getting a paycheck anyway.❞ I said, rolling my eyes. I knew what she wanted me to say, it was what they all wanted me to say. Indirectly at least.That I was a loose canon ready to explode. A sadistic, psychotic bitch with no feelings of remorse. A cold-blooded killer...Mrs Jones frowned, adjusting her glasses. ❝You're right, I'm getting paid for this. I have no problem failing you immediately because you're a murderer, a mons...???? ??????? ???? ? ???? ????????? ??????? ?????? ?????? ???????? ???? ?? ?????????? ?? ???? ???? ??? ?????? ????? ???????? ?? ? ??????? ??? ?????? ?????? ?????????? ??? ??????? ??????????, ?????, ??? ????? ?? ?? ?????? ??? ???. ???? ???, ?? ? ???? ????? ?? ????, ???? ??? ??? ? ?????? ??????????? ?? ???? ??? ?????? ???? ???????Warning: contains extreme violence, vulger, and gore.May cause triggers to some readers.