To dance with angels,
first you have to forgive their lies;
over-zealous birds with peripheral faces, and fingers -
about as exciting as the clouds floating in the skies,

covering their ears
as the world below them burns and cries,

over-zealous suffragettes in dresses
I admittedly loathe and despise

pugnacious, self-centred and frozen to the core
laughing hysterically as we worship and spread their lore,

not actually interested in who we are or what we do,
making emotional archetypes out of fools such as me and you

oh yes -

give me one, I'll burn away her clothes
expose her, barren and broken, like she did me,

give me one, I'll douse that halo in tar then **** on it;
purely vengeance from when she shattered my hopes of finally being free -

[sigh]

I think if I ever did get the chance,

I'd rather clip her wings than have a dance.