Every saint has a past
Cherry peaked and snow white pure
Each cherubim face is but a mask
Hiding away the evil they endure

Inch by inch the porcelain pretense cracks deeper
Spilling out demons from which their souls were molded
Flying towards heaven, out of reach for hell's keeper
Beating their wings against all odds, remaining golden

So you see, these sinners distinguish the path ahead
Leaping with a newborn's spirit and
Changing for the better instead
No longer fearing where they stand

Though the wake is left murky and dreary
Hearts of a new soul spot the light and travel unweary