An oppressive sound fills the air
Like seven trombones from the lair
The beginning of a cruelty end
Somewhere around nothing
In utter darkness
Overcame creatures call silence for help
Fields lying fallow
Where just innocent flowers croak
But a plate for all the sinful flesh
Is burning spheres in the crying eyes
Like the whole universe captured in a marble
The odour of burning feathers pierces the air
As fearing angels fade away
And only the mother
Observing her son becoming a God
His back is covered with blood
As his shoulders become wings
To embrace the world with sin
Bloody wounds on his contorted face –
A trace of his dangerous nails
With watered eyes and bursting veins
He cries out into night
Just an appeal to the creatures to resist
Straightened up his wings
Cause he knows the time is short
To widespread the wave of evil
He is taking over them by intrepidity
For he knows a child should be born
To defeat his greatest foe
