i'm exited to see my lord and savior represented in such glorious Italian stone. I do hope that his eyes gaze upon me and that my allegiance is recognized, notice me senpai, notice me! part of me hopes that that angel statue would come to life! and my king would rise and two eternal juggernauts would do battle, right here in the middle of the city. But for what is this battle raging? you ask, I don't know, what stands at the center? to that I say: my soul is at the center! offered up to the angel-less ones, only to be torn and tainted. It's like you can't have one without the other you know? like i'm equal parts god and the devil. A cloak of shame covers this man, and only supreme light will wash my body clean. but how could that light ever reach me? with the thick clouds of indecency that surround my poor soul? so I carry my wrongdoings on my back, like some sort of tormented hiker, lost in the hills of misfortune, looking desperately for that peak to rescue him from the valley of depraved ritual self pleasuring, but again i find nothing except for sweaty devastated loneliness and a thousand judging eyes staring back at me from the cover of a stolen Victoria's Secret catalog, I didn't take your mail Mrs Pemberton! stop asking me that! leave me ALONE! alright. seems pretty cool.