We could steal from the sun
The ray's kisses made of stardust
That holds a sparkle in your eyes.
As little white clouds,
We could stretch our limits
Covering more ground than space.
Rumor a man lives in those clouds,
The sinners pray in silence
Yet prayers are made from dead lips
Rotting to dust from experience
Us sinners wait for redemption
But there is no saving from Hell
When you enjoy the burn.
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