The Trouble with Angels

The trouble with angels, my dear,
Is the question; how hard have they fallen for you to find one? Trapped on Earth
Down, down, down they fall. Losing their grace with every wilted feather,
Stranded with only the knowledge of something better, trapped,
Within the bounds of heavenly law, only to find temptations all around,
Oh darling, that’s immortality, wrapped pretty in red and around every corner.

The trouble with love, my dear,
Is the thoughts and emotions that complicate a complex feeling.
To give myself away with so little a risk I thought I’d once take,
But the fall from grace and how easily the unforgiving were cast out,
Makes me think otherwise. What a silly feeling love has been known to be.
If love is suppose to be a nameless, beautiful divine thing,
Why are we all damned for fighting wars over her?

The trouble with you, my dear,
Is how easy I find myself drawn to you, with that body and those eyes,
Pulling me in with every smile and drawn out lullaby,
I can’t decide how good you’ll be for me, but lets have fun trying to figure it out.
Let’s take our time exploring the seven sins, some more than once,
Drag me down to you, and I’ll sing praises and hymns from between your legs,
Make me see the stars as the angels once did, unfiltered and raw,
So love me now, or never, the choice is yours,
But know that a fruit so forbidden is bound to be rotten in some ways.
And this war we’ve waged on our hearts, let us put them to good use,
Tongues clashing, fingers gripping hard; prove to me that love is physical and real.
Only once we crash into the Earth as the angels did, can we rise to the heavens,
Sinful and satisfied from the Earthly pleasures we chose to explore.