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The endless blue is the perfect blank slate,
to see the angel up so high
Colors coming off her wings that dreamers create,
painting pictures accross the sky
My imagination may be running wild,
but my heart is tame
My eyes are the blind of her true identity,
am I the one at blame?
Cluelessness is friend and fiend,
I can only cross my fingers
Because things are not what they seemed,
for the ears of the death ringers
Fear does not begin to explain,
the pain that haunts constantly
The answer is as clear as a stain,
starring so obviously
The sky is filled with flitting birds,
admitting to my shyness would be all to easy
So I hide behind these words,
slurring but not sleazy
What is all this talk of me,
when the angel is prime focus
Maybe I should let things be,
and stop believing in hocus-pocus
Love was meant for those who sacrifice,
but I have nothing left to give
Ideas crawl through my head like lice,
none clever enough to be called creative
Her recent features are blank,
but i can remember
The exact moment she took my heart,
it had to be mid-December
And so i dream far and wide,
of that angel who flies so high
Maybe our worlds will coincide,
in that blank slate called the sky