Sympathy makes me guilty
Never raised to be
Had to fake my sickness
Just to be free
Roaming the grass
The hills made of gold
Summer sun and winter fog
Always growing old
I wanted nothing more
Than the opposite
Fast, not slow
Easy, not hard
Bright purple skies
Filled with lies
Hollywood towering above
There's nothing more
That I love
Than a godless god
Soaring untouched
