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Angle

Angle As I look through the door All I see is no one else It's as if a secret we share Wherever you go I will follow But things have gotten bad again And the wind feels sad again Walking along high trees, and passing by slow rivers Ending by a closed passage, where purple flowers grow fastened A cup of pink flowers sooths, a spell of what I might be to you But what's right in my face, a demon's hive and a smell to taste As I look through the door All I see is no one else It's as if we share Wherever you go I will follow But things have gotten bad again And the wind feels sad again