I sing with the angels and dance with the devil.
As I play on both sides of the black rivers flowing,
I hear the questions daily, may I? Dare I?
As freedom allows the nightingales to roam, adventure is not tied to the backyard.
With unconditional love and the caring of a unit, outside the dirty window are the same sins those breath careless whispers.
The wings of the serpent bird and the doves mix into a managed tale of love and deceit.
Separate closets to hide from the staring eyes of judges and contradictory glares.
The dance is simple within the song; the voices stay beautiful and distant. The steps of this waltz get closer to the heart. Spinning this web of actual armor to protect what is mine from what I propose to not give up.
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