• On top of the clouds, entagled with tears.
    I sing of the past, I've mourned for the years.

    These blood-stained hands are far from done.
    So if you see me, I suggest you run.

    I was created by god and I mourn with despair.
    With no other choice, I must take your air.

    Leaving you limp, and watching you die.
    Is one of the reasons I sit up so high.

    I have no choice, I'm forced to fight.
    This is the way that opens my light.