The whispers are now hunting,
bear into me the night is cold.
I'm the fallen cast down from Heaven;
an archangel only you can hold.
In the ink of tattoos
I search for you,
behind every curtain
beneath every pew.
Tapping in time with the rain,
giving up the ghost and remains.
I can't save you from yourself
but I'd crawl through glass to taste your health.
Rockets shoot across the sky
we no longer wonder why;
what we entertain behind the scenes
is what makes the madman scream.
The whispers are now hungry,
frost kisses every blade of grass.
my names are many and one in the same,
all you have to do is ask.
