The Fourth

She wanted to fly over your house
Drown you with rain to wash you out
She wanted to crawl beneath the dirt
Wear your blood on your favourite shirt

Between the core and the surface
Between the random and the purpose

She wanted to sing you your final song
All though she lost, she’s already won

Shes calling
She’s falling

Blood on her hands
Untying the strings
Wrapped up so tight
Around her poor wings

This world is unfit
For an angel to thrive
These people are sick
They will skin you alive

Between the core and the surface
Between the random and the purpose