Love of life at times requires death

Hobgoblins know the proper way to dance: Arms akimbo, loopy legs askew, Leaping into darkness with delight, Lusting for the ecstasy of fright, Open to the charm of horrors new.

Angels are quite ample cause to cry.

By day each soul must walk within its shadow. Only night can make us whole again.

Only night can make us whole again.

Given angel's wings, where might you fly? In what sweet heaven might you find your love? Unwilling to be bound, where might you move, Lost between the wonder and the why?

As spirits roam the neighborhoods at night, Let loose upon the Earth till it be light.