Enya…In your language is there a word for anger…Or is it in your temple where you hide…Enya…In your temple your flowers bloom like fire…But now your colour’s faded and you’re cold…Hide in your inner circle…Strength ain’t muscle…Whatever makes it better…Hold onto your pride…In time your faith will wither…Fucked up and lost…Hurt won’t live forever…Enya…In your garden all of your angels gather…Taking you into hiding under their wings…Enya…In your savior can you find hope for a future…Where all your fears and anger won’t cloud your way…Enya…In your shelter is there a fire for comfort…Burning your inhibitions away