I hate mercy. Mercy is when you are doing something and you want to quit or something. Like when someone does something in movies they might say something about mercy.
have mercy, whoever’s up there. Please.
we are dying, burning up, there are spears at our necks
have mercy, please
we can’t survive like this
we are being gassed and treated like animals
have mercy, please
A pretty little thing with a pretty little head
One day snatched up and brought to bed
Not a peep not a sound, she neither stayed not fled
She learned to be alive, and how to be dead
She learned to wear sweat like a veil of pride
But one of a widower, never a bride
Needing no truths, believing no lies
Dragging you down and into the skies
Those eyes she casts like a hook out to sea
A face as warm as the sun through the trees
She knows to part her dress above the knee
She counts the times you look, 1, 2, 3
It’s an art, a craft, the way she ensnares
The way those soft lips seem to say that they care
The way her arched chest says, ‘aren’t we quite the pair?’
This is how she turns the tables; her bed, her lair
She’ll take your fingers and lick them clean
The sway of her hips make quite a scene.
My god, spare me! Sultry and obscene
This angel turned devil, the pauper, the queen
Have mercy on me, please, I’m trying, every day. But everyday offers unexpected challenges, unlikely commitments, and usually total bullshit. If I stay in bed, I can’t make any mistakes.
Have mercy on me,
My soul is not well.
Have mercy on me
Give me something to smile about
And calm my breaking heart.
Have mercy on me
As I suffer through these rivers of tears
And dream of rivers woven into my destiny.
Have mercy on me, for my destiny is cloudy.
Mercy. Extended to us without hesitation in the ultimate sacrifice of His son Jesus Christ. All that is required is a confession of sin and proclamation that He will be Lord of our life. Really! Is that IT? That is it. His genuine, uncompromising agape love for us simply requires genuine, uncompromising, agape love for Him. I think that is called a relationship.
Have mercy! Elvis has left the building. I always wonder which exit he goes out. It must be a super secret exit. By the very nature of needing an announcement for us to know that he’s no longer in the building with us, there must have been a great place for him to have snuck away, unobserved.
“Have some mercy!” Martha wailed as the killer bore down on her, baring her prized serrated kitchen knife aloft. “Have some mercy!”
But his masked face showed no sign, told no tails. The killer held the knife higher. He was close, about to bring it through her floral print dress, and soon, there’d be nothing left of Marsha.
He was standing right at the edge of the podium. Axe in Hand he waited for the next candiate to arrive. It was the lover of the princess, the reason of recent gossip. In just under 20 minutes, he would no longer be. Was it right that he had to kill him?
A man who had done nothing wrong but to love the wrong woman?
His thoughts were interrupted when said man entered the scene. A grim look on his face. Without a word he placed his head right where it was supposed to go…off.
And with one fast movement, he ended yet another life.
But he was no judge. He was just an executioner, trying to get by.
Mercy is my father killing the dog last Tuesday. His hands, wilted and strong, holding the gun to Cassie’s head when the blood spread from her stomach to her mouth. Bullets are cheaper than vet bills, and vet bills are cheaper than the pain that comes from having a wolf bite into your stomach. I wanted her to live, because there’s gotta be someone in the story who doesn’t want the dog to die, right? But I didn’t throw my body on top of her, or grab my dad’s gun away. Even as the shot sounded, and I cried, but I didn’t flinch. Because if I begged my dad to give Cassie mercy, to give her little ears the chance to flop once more, he’d just say that giving someone the dignity to die is mercy too.
‘Mercy’ she cries…’Mercy!’
The torture! Oh the pain! She’s all but doubled up…with laughter.
Tickling…A horrific thing, she laughs, then punches. She just wants it to stop.
Have mercy! ‘Pretty woman’ is one of the songs I grew up on, our tape recorder/player (only one way) belting it out when parties were held at our house. Oh, those days when we had nothing, and we had the world. Now we’ve got a fancy networked Bluetooth system that stays silent most days.
…on me for being weak. for succumbing over and over. Glorious is the mercy, only a perfect being constantly can give. mercy to the humble, mercy to the weak.
Please! Have mercy! And yet, no mercy was had. For he was held in the dungeon of the most notorious scoundrel ever to walk the earth. And for him, mercy was for the weak. For the feeble and weak minded who deserved nothing but derision.
I was expected to be patient. I was expected to be kind. I was expected to be slow to anger and show mercy to those who slighted me. And oh, how they slighted me. Spat at my feet. Swore at my creations. Found ways to sin while using my name to justify it.
Well, I ain’t merciful anymore, bitches. It’s time to bust some skulls – Yahweh style.
“Please,” he gasped, knees pressed tight against the pebbled ground, fists wound around the fabric of his loose pants. “Spare my child. She is our only memory of your wife.”
Have mercy on me father, for I did not know that I was sinning. I did not know Christ as I have come to know him, and I did not know that what I was doing was wrong?
My child, mercy is not mine to give or deny. That belongs to Christ alone. What I can tell you is your penance for what you have done. You must say 15 hail marys and 15 our fathers, and all will be forgiven.
When I see the word mercy I think of a plant.
When I think of mercy I think of someone saying there’s no mercy. I like this word.
I mercy upon you oh Great Wall of china
What I think of mercy is a plant in our solar system.And mercy is one of our plants .
When I hear mercy I think of somebody saying please have mercy.also mercy rhymes with Percy.
When I think of mercy I think of a second chance so if I have any enemy’s right now please have mercy. Please have mercy
I hate mercy. Mercy is when you are doing something and you want to quit or something. Like when someone does something in movies they might say something about mercy.
When I think of mercy I think of the song.
When I hear mercy I think of to scared or tapping.some people fight then say mercy and that means the other person won.
When I think of mercy I think of a second chance so if I have any enemy’s right now please have mercy.
There is a song called Mercy but I don’t know if they are using it the same way or differently.
Mercy is when someone lets you off easy,there is also a song that is called (Mercy On My Heart).
When I think of mercy I think of like when you are begging to get something.
Mercy reminds me of quitting a fight.
When I think of mercy I think of like Jesus.
Mercy is something in sports when the other team has 20 points.Like surrender.
have mercy, whoever’s up there. Please.
we are dying, burning up, there are spears at our necks
have mercy, please
we can’t survive like this
we are being gassed and treated like animals
have mercy, please
He bowed beneath my feet, sweat mingling with traces of metallic crimson.
“Mercy.”
The word rang through my mind as I pulled the trigger.
*Ribbit. Ribbit.
*When a monster no longer wants to fight, please, human.
*Show some MERCY.
*Ribbit.
merciful sorry
do play
don’t worry
yours sincerely,
o.
once tragedy, now treasure
second seconds come and stay
kill them with kindness
little lioness
love,
on.
once tragedy, twice harm
i need to learn
on your farm
five feet star?
sound the alarm
gym
casual
strength
active
A pretty little thing with a pretty little head
One day snatched up and brought to bed
Not a peep not a sound, she neither stayed not fled
She learned to be alive, and how to be dead
She learned to wear sweat like a veil of pride
But one of a widower, never a bride
Needing no truths, believing no lies
Dragging you down and into the skies
Those eyes she casts like a hook out to sea
A face as warm as the sun through the trees
She knows to part her dress above the knee
She counts the times you look, 1, 2, 3
It’s an art, a craft, the way she ensnares
The way those soft lips seem to say that they care
The way her arched chest says, ‘aren’t we quite the pair?’
This is how she turns the tables; her bed, her lair
She’ll take your fingers and lick them clean
The sway of her hips make quite a scene.
My god, spare me! Sultry and obscene
This angel turned devil, the pauper, the queen
Have mercy on me, please, I’m trying, every day. But everyday offers unexpected challenges, unlikely commitments, and usually total bullshit. If I stay in bed, I can’t make any mistakes.
“Please, have mercy.” He begs me, but I look at him ferociously.
“No.” I spit out. “You know what you did.”
He looks down despondently and I almost—almost feel sorry for him, but I don’t lower the gun placed at his temple.
“This is the last time, Johnny.”
He had it coming.
mercy.
Have mercy on me,
My soul is not well.
Have mercy on me
Give me something to smile about
And calm my breaking heart.
Have mercy on me
As I suffer through these rivers of tears
And dream of rivers woven into my destiny.
Have mercy on me, for my destiny is cloudy.
Mercy. Extended to us without hesitation in the ultimate sacrifice of His son Jesus Christ. All that is required is a confession of sin and proclamation that He will be Lord of our life. Really! Is that IT? That is it. His genuine, uncompromising agape love for us simply requires genuine, uncompromising, agape love for Him. I think that is called a relationship.
Have mercy! Elvis has left the building. I always wonder which exit he goes out. It must be a super secret exit. By the very nature of needing an announcement for us to know that he’s no longer in the building with us, there must have been a great place for him to have snuck away, unobserved.
“Have some mercy!” Martha wailed as the killer bore down on her, baring her prized serrated kitchen knife aloft. “Have some mercy!”
But his masked face showed no sign, told no tails. The killer held the knife higher. He was close, about to bring it through her floral print dress, and soon, there’d be nothing left of Marsha.
Show me no mercy for I have not sinned.
Goddess have Mercy
For i have sinned
and there’s so much to sin
Goddess don’t worry about me
For i am safe and the BOMB!
I am good.
He was standing right at the edge of the podium. Axe in Hand he waited for the next candiate to arrive. It was the lover of the princess, the reason of recent gossip. In just under 20 minutes, he would no longer be. Was it right that he had to kill him?
A man who had done nothing wrong but to love the wrong woman?
His thoughts were interrupted when said man entered the scene. A grim look on his face. Without a word he placed his head right where it was supposed to go…off.
And with one fast movement, he ended yet another life.
But he was no judge. He was just an executioner, trying to get by.
Mercy is my father killing the dog last Tuesday. His hands, wilted and strong, holding the gun to Cassie’s head when the blood spread from her stomach to her mouth. Bullets are cheaper than vet bills, and vet bills are cheaper than the pain that comes from having a wolf bite into your stomach. I wanted her to live, because there’s gotta be someone in the story who doesn’t want the dog to die, right? But I didn’t throw my body on top of her, or grab my dad’s gun away. Even as the shot sounded, and I cried, but I didn’t flinch. Because if I begged my dad to give Cassie mercy, to give her little ears the chance to flop once more, he’d just say that giving someone the dignity to die is mercy too.
‘Mercy’ she cries…’Mercy!’
The torture! Oh the pain! She’s all but doubled up…with laughter.
Tickling…A horrific thing, she laughs, then punches. She just wants it to stop.
Have mercy! ‘Pretty woman’ is one of the songs I grew up on, our tape recorder/player (only one way) belting it out when parties were held at our house. Oh, those days when we had nothing, and we had the world. Now we’ve got a fancy networked Bluetooth system that stays silent most days.
…on me for being weak. for succumbing over and over. Glorious is the mercy, only a perfect being constantly can give. mercy to the humble, mercy to the weak.
Please! Have mercy! And yet, no mercy was had. For he was held in the dungeon of the most notorious scoundrel ever to walk the earth. And for him, mercy was for the weak. For the feeble and weak minded who deserved nothing but derision.
I was expected to be patient. I was expected to be kind. I was expected to be slow to anger and show mercy to those who slighted me. And oh, how they slighted me. Spat at my feet. Swore at my creations. Found ways to sin while using my name to justify it.
Well, I ain’t merciful anymore, bitches. It’s time to bust some skulls – Yahweh style.
“Please,” he gasped, knees pressed tight against the pebbled ground, fists wound around the fabric of his loose pants. “Spare my child. She is our only memory of your wife.”
Have mercy on me father, for I did not know that I was sinning. I did not know Christ as I have come to know him, and I did not know that what I was doing was wrong?
My child, mercy is not mine to give or deny. That belongs to Christ alone. What I can tell you is your penance for what you have done. You must say 15 hail marys and 15 our fathers, and all will be forgiven.