I hid my blackened bones and flipped the angel in front
I did this every time I meet the messengers passing through
To cover up my face and give the mask which I am not
A thousand storms and bullets I blew
My left hand heals the lost, my right hand kills the ghost
Find me in every miles and in every words
You would lift me up and name me with all mosts
But deep behind I'm not the flint tone of my chords
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