Hanging down from the ceiling... The old pendulum now rests
Time stands still... - like iron -... In the house of the dead
Our fragile souls lie weeping, sealed in sleep and balls of lead
All flowers here are dust, but we can still recall their scent
In filth, decay and disrelish the leg-less man lay kneeling
Weeping petrified, out of his mind... - half buried, yet still breathing
His lips are soft like powder and so cold... Colder than snow
Mingled with the dust he fell, all paralysed by flesh and bone
Forgive us, please, for we're long fallen
Shivering carcass shuns the light
Ancient bodies' fallen heaven, a dark star in a fallen sky
Flow my tears!, the angel said
He forced a smile than bowed his head
How much he wished that he could die
Tore his old wings off with a sigh