Angel, angel, spirit true,
Blessed fires run through you,
What fine art could frame thy face,
And capture thy immortal grace?

On what distant shores or sands,
Do you work the magic of thy hands?
When Seraphim frolic on fair wings,
Does thy Creator sing?

What skilled hand, and what mind,
Could craft the beauty of thy shine?
And when thine eyes began to see,
Did you see the world with amity?

Where there's beauty, where there's love,
Can Seraphim be found above?
Where passion burns its fearsome sparks,
Does the Angel move in arcs?

When you were born of His imagination,
Did He rejoice in thy creation?
When your wings were finished whole,
Did He rejoice in thy soul?

Angel, angel, spirit true,
Blessed fires run through you,
What fine art could frame thy face,
And capture thy immortal grace?

Everyone needs a cigarette,
Not literally, I mean it as a metaphor,
Something for this little stress threat,
Inside the upper core.

Why do people actually,
Wanna avoid stress all the time.
Wouldn't it be more logical,
If we would accept it all?

Live with the voices screaming,
The hearbeat rising,
The ugly dreaming,
And inner fighting.

I guess not...

People have been searching,
For relaxation through history,
A herb, a massage, a magic thing,
First an experience, later almost compulsary.

I'm still figuring out,
The balance between accepting and interventions,
To live healthy, pure and happy,
But without too much tensions.

Exploring these things,
Is actually a lot of fun.
Sometimes it gives me wings,
Other times i just hold on.

In search, but with a smile, this can last a while, just accept my style

OH tortured souls,
How well do I know you..
My heart has been shattered,
Exploded into irrepressible bits
From loving you so much.
Once annihilated,
I was able to bear the burden of
This exquisite Existence.
God help me,
I had to became nothing
To be one with all.

Not all angels have a halo or wings.
Not all demons have tails, horns protruding.
It can be so hard to tell them apart
For good and evil lie within the heart.

My dad doesn't understand visiting graves.
He says when you're dead you're dead.
That's when I realized death switched from a fear to a feeling.
He was always good at turning problems into cadavers
And painting on a fake smile with a chest cavity full of black matter.

I never did cry when my dog died
I put the constant in numb.
And sometimes I sit in that parking lot and I chain myself to my memories in protest
If you want to move past this you're gonna have to go through me.
I let the pavement swallow me whole
And think about what would've happened if she made it inside.

I want to tell you about when it was that I stopped sitting in doctors chairs and why my nightmares have teeth.
How I wish you would treat me like a tombstone
About how I want to be buried in the park across the street from my house.
How there is nothing beautiful 
about names that read like funerals.

I wonder why some houses keep lights on in every window
As if they're waiting for someone to come home.
That never will.
And if there is a light that never goes out
Why does the darkness come creeping back in every chance it gets?
And when are you coming home?

Come to me with tears, my eyes have cried.
Laugh until you hurt, I've been that manic.
Deceive me if you can, I know the lies
we tell ourselves in fear. I will not panic.
Pound my chest in anger, feel my strength;
know I know your pain, yet do not feel it.
Tell me of your breaking heart at length;
words absorbed and heard the salve to heal it.
We together know we can survive;
after all, we'd chosen different roads and
gone our separate ways just to arrive
in time to hold up one another's loads.
You think you weigh me down, yet do not see
my burden's lighter when you lean on me.

Maybe you weren't skinny enough.
Maybe you talked too much.
Maybe you wore too much perfume.

Maybe you were never home on time, were a lousy cook, never made the bed, and liked ***** a little too much.

Maybe you weren't eloquent or quick enough, maybe you didn't have the willpower to stand up for yourself.

Or-did you ever consider-?

Maybe you were too perfect.

I believe that my soul is
Part of a whole

Connected to all that you see

You're not just you
And I'm not just me

We're as one, and always will be

When born into heaven
All is made clear

We are one with the earth
With the trees, with the deer

We are one with the clouds
And the rain, and the sea

We are one with each other
I'm with you, you're with me