So the fallen priest who is pretending to be the king of yesterday
Is it that of which when a devil enters the doors of a church
That in praying for a life which fills in the emptiness of God
Bells ringing loud with the sound of angels hanging around
Schizophrenic thoughts against the worshipping of the holy land
When kneeling down to hope and raising a fist full of anger
Playing with emotional disaster when you believed in your own beliefs
Crushing down on shoulders through into your open hearts
Crucified to the sorrow of anyone\'s beautiful innate delicate design
With folded arms across the skies, we look up to ask him why
In a fleeting of any given moment, another story begins to unfold
Four fairies float along in the belief they can do no wrong
And as humans walk to learn how things can go right
Our stars keep us going, that in which we survive.