But what to make of you?

An angel flying down from heaven,

or a demon crawling from below?

You seem to be out of me,

even though I feel you in.

Lighting me up from the inside,

like a never ending burning desire for you.

I do not know what you are, 

and I do not care to know.

Cause knowing what you are,

might just break me apart.

Baby, if you really are an angel,

please do not tell me now, or better yet,

I beg that you tell me never.

For if you are an angel from heaven,

does that make me a demon from hell?