domingo, 27 de fevereiro de 2011

Crayon Angel songs are slightly out of tune but I'm sure I'm not to blame. Nothin' has happened but I think it will soon, so I sit here waitin' for God and a train to the Astral plane.
Magic rings I made have turned my finger green and my mystic roses died. Guess reality is not as it seems, so I sit here hopin' for truth and a ride to the other side.
Phony prophets stole the only light I knew and the darkness softly screamed. Holy visions disappeared from my view, but the angels come back and laugh in my dreams - I wonder what it means.

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