Swooping down from above to place hands in care however needed No hidden agenda
But perhaps not hands but wings floating above a withering body a lost soul
In your eyes loving kindness What if that love turned to hate It cannot be can't entertain that thought of despair
The world is full of dust but underneath it a lush green forest where angels and fairies take respite
They strengthen together then float back to dust to extinguish it lay hands and wings on without hidden agenda.
Busted Flip Flops 