Angels from Hell,
flies across the sky.
Devils from Heaven,
falls down to the ground.
What is it worth,
when nobody asks why?
We just walk around,
and wish that you could fly.
Whispers from Hell,
tells you what to do,
and you say nothing,
but a polite "thank you".
Whispers from Hell,
tells you right from wrong,
and you believe them,
even if they kill your song.
Storm clouds gather,
and the wind begins to blow.
The sun starts to vanish,
and the world is getting cold.
I sit here by your side,
and carefully takes your hand.
Try to say "I love you",
but the words just won't come out.
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