| The Myth (for Tracey) For all that I know in this world A small amount would be that the eye can be fooled The mind can play tricks upon us everyday We but helpless fools dancing on wires You do know I am angelic? That all I do here would surely be touched by my grace Maybe that small innocence would rub off on you lot Yes that must be it, here to save you all from corruption The myth is that I am somehow corrupt Or perhaps there may be horns holding up my halo To these and other silly rumors I say do not listen Besides can't you see the wings? fluffy white feathers -Dan | 
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