Pain, obedience and fear
Turned to ways of our lives.
Skies above us all had gone
Into just thin gray line.
We're kept in the limits of sense,
By the strings, but are they strong enough?
And locked are the doors of defense
By the small gods inside of us.
Angel, angel.
Small gods inside of all of us.
Angel, angel. [bad word] face we hope to see in us.
Descended by heavenly [bad word] invincible thirst
To break free our souls that had charred
And to throw off our thorns.
Words that sound in our heads
Are [bad word] iron bells.
We talk to the involute depths
And to small gods inside of us.
Angel, angel.
Small gods inside of all of us.
Angel, angel. [bad word] face we long to find in us.