He has the ability to fly
Chose his destinies, altering them by will

Chants to rid off his offensive thoughts
Raising the brim, he remains
Currents flow between his eyes
His destiny, another chance?
Wining and gambling away purity
Realising
His quest is lost
Tracing his way back.

Your altered destinies
Burial eyes.

Imperfection, the mutilation of his faith
Praising temper, subduing nonchalant gods

Enough of hypocrisy, he looks to the forest for empathy
Walking through and conversing with his friends - the trees
Saffron clad justice for philosophies (he'd) misunderstood
He finds lust on a dusty path
In her bosom, loath