What couldn't feed off? What could beg for what they wanted? The Pope. The Devil. The ignorant bastard. The selfish lover. They all couldn't stop how they felt even if they wanted to. Insane, brilliant, terrible, or in love. It didn't take a minimum taste just to know what they all really have and what they truly admired. They either met god. Met hell. Met a relief. Met me. And they truly hate it all. It could take the smoke right from your dry mouth and make you feel better. They all call it a sensation. They all call it a miracle. A high. A kiss. A wave. An ocean. And heaven knows an angel. And myth or not. I know I felt something. I know you can stop. And I know you still love me.
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