| My angel didn’t fall,
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| she landed.
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| In spite of what the guards commanded.
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| And she nourished my eyes,
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| wearing only her wings.
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| And we stayed up all night,
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| doing heavenly things.
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| She told me they would come to find her.
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| There wasn’t any way to hide her.
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| But I bolted the doors,
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| like the fool that I am.
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| and I cried in her arms,
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| «I am only a man.»
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| She replied,
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| «That might be true,
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| but I think much more of you.»
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| So for seven days, I walked beside her.
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| And for seven nights, I slept inside her.
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| But I woke on the eighth,
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| with a cold on my skin.
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| And a space, in the place, where her face should’ve been.
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| And I knew that they had come to get her,
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| so I gathered every fallen feather.
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| And she warned me of this,
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| but I always refused
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| when she said I’d move on
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| because that’s what men do.
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| I replied, «That might be true,
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| but I think much more of you.»
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| And as the years go by,
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| I’ll be looking to the heavens.
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| So I went to search the sky one morning,
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| and I saw her on the ground before me,
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| with a tear in her eye,
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| and a bruise on her chin,
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| and a wound on her back
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| where her wings should’ve been.
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| So I knelt down at her side to touch her,
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| and she told me that the fall had crushed her.
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| In exchange for her sins,
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| I’d be damned for all time.
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| So she gave them her wings,
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| if it meant I’d get mine.
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| So I held her as the sun was rising,
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| and I whispered as her heart was fighting,
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| «Oh I’ll pray for the day that those fools follow through,
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| cause I’ll make them all pay for what they’ve done to you.»
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| She replied,
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| «That might be true,
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| but I think much more…» |