Far beyond the grasp on motal hand
In the depths of imagination
We soar high above the cites and trees

Your black wings create shadows
My white ones create light
Once we were enemies
Now friends

Oh my demon
Oh my devil
Would you still feel the same

If I told you what really happened
That cold morning in November?

Would you still crave my touch
Would you still hold me close
Or would you leave

After realizing I was a human
Pretending to be an Angle?