The Angel
Subtract the distance and age does not matter
With two guns to our hearts
It is the words in autumn that save us from rage
I can not be anymore truthful
And this can not be more than what it is
Late nights, no sleep, and my wings are bleeding.
While one great light has developed a spot of darkness
The immaculate darkness has found one piece of light
You crawl, I smile, and you know.
Is it better to be a fallen angel
Or a messenger who has never fallen.
Will we crawl out of the darkness to be that light?
Or will we just be that moment?
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