Saint of Vice

Under cold lights, she shines like a perfect damn.Everyone looks at it, no one can have it.They call it lost, but they do not know its power.I do, even if for her I'm one of the many who pays.His smile promises nothing, and that's why it destroys me.Goddess of a night like many others, loved by no one, desired by all.I don't own it, I don't save it, I don't really touch it.I worship her from afar, as one does with the stars: knowing that they will never fall.