With angels and demons, it’s not too hard.

They wear their wings, either polished or marred.

It’s hard to deceive when you’re so deeply scarred.

Man’s nature is more difficult to reveal.

To not know whether man is good or bad.

Is a complicated list of the life he’s had.

Saints and sinners have both gone mad.

I understand the winged ones’ appeal.

Wings that are singed would be the worst.

Damned must hurt if you were beautiful first.

Like an ocean before you while you’re dying of thirst.

It’s harder now to grasp what’s real.

Life’s a string, we’re all the kites.

Just us with the burden of the universe’s plight.

In our own worlds, we’re the white knights.

No more days of mine will this illusion steal.