Angels use the sky as fabric

Angels wear a costume to hide their gloom but there is no coat to cover it all.

Their Light is a call, stuck in the throat.

After the return of a memory which is than left in an empty hall.

It's the nights downfall.

It's huge and it's bright the Devils delight, and savely caught in the heart of a thought.

The sun won't shine without. Its a shout, which radiates through the hearts open door.

Like the sea coming home to the shore, with every movement mightier than before.

Which is no wonder why Jesus had a tear in his eye, as there is no goodbye.

As he returned to the people who yearned for a proof of truth.

Angels are made out of gluth. They are just the tender attempt to hide the gloom.

The sun which shines on a rainy afternoon.

Thats how they are and they are true and ever new as the sky differs in blue.

There are no doubts and no sorrows and no lies, all the pain is just a disguise.

Like the sphere which is a coat worn by the Stars.

And I sometimes wonder if there lies any purpose in the scars and I sometimes want to dive into the eye as deep as I try to reach the sky.