Guessing where the coins would fall,
they carried on for hours with a compass and a set of keys
backpacks packed and floating just above their pretty heads.
Poised to dive and immolate ten thousand years of moistened lips,
for one less kiss they're willing to let all the angels lay claim to their territory
and sleep with their lights on for personality.
They stumble through darkness while reaching for fleeting moments:
"The Glory shall be yours and you all shall be as God..."
Don't let the songs fall without a word.
Impending nova, I'll watch you all burn.
Running from a heart of clay,
they ate with severed limbs and gambled well into the previous day,
risking wings from angels that they couldn't afford to repay in word,
or deed, or selfish thought.
If seraphim are pulling strings they'll find their wings
and become one King for a lifetime,
and Kong for one fleeting moment,
to find that the journey was less than work for us.
They'll refine their relics and offer the sweetest up to me,
asking one more time:
"Don't you want to laugh like God?"
Don't let the songs fall without a word.
Impending nova, I'll watch you all burn.