It is the empty hand that holds the chains to keep the world together.
None see the scars and bleeding fingers underneath the feathers.
Walking a thin line above the clouds I am struck by lightning under my own weather.
Holding myself in place with daily nightmares of a drunkard father
I rise to see it but get knocked down by Kether
The line is breaking and I need to grow my wings
20000 feet above the ground and not a sign of saturns rings
Only when we hit the ground do we see the empty things
Material objects, the love of the souless flings
Is there salvation all abound even for the broken Kings?
Does God favor the evil ones or is God the Devil who never rings?