The sky is on fire but only to inspire a choir, of angels of demons without rhyme or reason, and for a season you thought your love could somehow outweigh the height of the sky but…you lie. Religiously. Your lies are your lullabies, goodbye, but what good comes from a farewell that leaves your heart pitted to the core. Yet you want more, like a dog begging for scraps you come back, your daggers you call words ready to attack. Isn't it strange how we invest so much trust in something most often fueled by lust? What is lust if love is lost? What is love if lust is lost? Consider the cost, sell your soul, the soul that was bought with a price, roll the dice and surrender all endeavors. Forever.