Wise angels only hum and hide their wings
Watching silently from heaven of the trivial human things
They see us and they groan
Because we are doomed: everything is set in stone
Twisting an turning fate keeps us ever outside their hands
They stand on the shore of Rubicon but on the opposite side of the sands
They seek not a chisel or a knife to carve out our names
To erase us from the universe; to bathe us in flames
But they never seek to glorify the lives we live
They will watch us die
And though their cheeks be bathed with tears
For a little boy lost before his years
The threads of fate they dare not touch
The woven power is far too much
But instead they hum their soft sweet songs
Wondering if maybe the Fates were wrong
They feel remorse for the living but they care for the shades
Because each and every one of them have fought their own crusades
Wise angels’ eyes glisten with pent up grief
Because they can do nothing but shape our belief
Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 10:04 PM UTC
Wise angels only hum and hide their wings
Watching silently from heaven of the trivial human things
They see us and they groan
Because we are doomed: everything is set in stone
Twisting an turning fate keeps us ever outside their hands
They stand on the shore of Rubicon but on the opposite side of the sands
They seek not a chisel or a knife to carve out our names
To erase us from the universe; to bathe us in flames
But they never seek to glorify the lives we live
They will watch us die
And though their cheeks be bathed with tears
For a little boy lost before his years
The threads of fate they dare not touch
The woven power is far too much
But instead they hum their soft sweet songs
Wondering if maybe the Fates were wrong
They feel remorse for the living but they care for the shades
Because each and every one of them have fought their own crusades
Wise angels’ eyes glisten with pent up grief
Because they can do nothing but shape our belief
