We used to sit around,
You and I,
And you would sing about the angels,
and cry about the demons.
What demons? I would ask,
In my naivety,
You never knew,
You just said they walked on our left,
Mimicking our footsteps.
What angels? I would ask,
In my curiosity,
Once again you wouldn't know,
You would say they were on our right,
You would tell me the world worked in lines,
Like a line between an angel and a demon,
or a dictator and a civilian,
a victim and a murderer,
The world worked in tangents and rays,
Setting up our divisions,
of righteousness and corruption,
Light and Dark,
Good and Evil.
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