The billowing curtain is whisked away
Revealing the Heavens for all that they are.
For us, the condemned to approaching Death,
Our eyes meet boundaries of only space.
But heavenly folk, wings weak and weary,
Plummet from Paradise, burning in crimson fire
We see but shooting stars
Revealing the Heavens for all that they are.
For us, the condemned to approaching Death,
Our eyes meet boundaries of only space.
But heavenly folk, wings weak and weary,
Plummet from Paradise, burning in crimson fire
We see but shooting stars