I reach out for the glory of a saint
But my wings are stained and torn
I could be a holy man if I had restraint
But alas my soul is tainted and worn
It seems I fall into empty temptations
Where evil is inflicted upon my mind
My good heart is lost in translation
Innocence is a trait held by the blind
I could hold out for the love of hope
If only I could remember how to sing
Can time teach me what it is to cope
Or maybe I could buy cleaner wings
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