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as on my skin
the wind is bitin' sharp,
an angel flutters by,
another plays his harp,
I cling to my cloud,
afraid to let go.
Looking at the devil
smiling down below...
surrounded by flames
souls burning with no fuss,
where's the destination
of my one way pass?
© Copyright 2008 Gimleu (UN: screwloose at Writing.Com).
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