I hear the Angel's thunderous cries
Commanding you to stop.
The largest of the troupe comes near
And kneels before your face;
Eye to eye
Bodies so close.
You ache to reach out and touch
But the Angel shall not permit,
For you have done too much.
Worthy? No, not nearly there,
Further away than the
Morning Star himself.
Hurt and pain course through my veins
The evil you have done.
The Angel's weep,
They cry, they glare.
Misfortune for you awaits.