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Ink-Stained Wings Contrasting with My Own.
Good morning sunshine,
Rise and shine;
Wake from your drowsy trance
I'll write your name in the sky
with the purple and black ink
(from my arm,)
and outline it with that halo that used to shine oh so bright
(if only in your eyes)
And I could use you about now,
though yesterday would've been better.
'Cause the angels are dying
And all that's left are demons
But for now your voice will do
even with the static that divides us,
it'll do.
And perhaps I'll sleep well tonight.
(Even with one eye open.)
Allow my eyes to wander
but never my heart.
It was yours from the beginning,
(As you clearly stated in the fine-print)
Dead and pickled in a glass jar at your bedstand
right beside the rusted birdcage; my new-found home.
And tonight I'll sing a song of compassion,
and every other aspect you gave away for this new verson of angel.
(Black is the new white.)
I'll sing you a song of crushed-velvet wings, and makeshift halos,
of tarnished gates of gold, and forgotten children.
'Cause when the angels are dead
only devils will do
Though tonight you'll never know.
Clouds of faded memories hover
Spitting out tears of the gods upon my heart
Bringing down my spirits,
and bringing others from the wormwood.
And the darkness caught the sparkle in her eye
as she flew in on those ink-stained wings
Jet-black leather to the floor
(Your newly signed "angel" wink
And I could see the pleasure in your grin as you let me
dissolve and disinagrate beneath her acid hands
'Cause I was the one that got away
(With your heart.)
And now that all angels are dead,
only the demons remain
(Inside my head.)
-end.
eh.
.-.
 angel08 · Wed Jun 29, 2005 @ 05:44pm · 1 Comments |
