On January 25, 2014
I need to know
can you love me after all?
The answer is, probably no.
Yeah, I'm not your cherub,
You mistaken me for an angel.
You stand in a glow for the Christmas,
In a cold, to bare my winter,
Don't touch this mist, because
It means a good bye.
This is that part of our dark scripture,
The one who has the huge marvel wings,
And as we fly-fly, so high
Above those stormy epic clouds;
in the night only my eyes shine.
