Fantom Star

Angels soar on wings of gold
to Demons our souls are sold
one gives the promise of eternal light
the other a cold embrace of unending night

Angels soar on wings of gold
a warrior watches restless and cold
angels do not see nor do they care
the warrior sinks into depression and dispair

A warrior sits in blood soaked sand
to tired to move, to tired to stand
demons watch with gleeful anticipation
as the warrior resumes his bloody occupation

One gives hope the other dispair
but do either trully care
who is master and who is slave
when both our souls they so do crave