| Fallen angels walk the shore along the sea of scorn with golden heads that hang so low from wings too tired and worn. With rusted halos under arm they tread the beach alone, away from grandeur they have lost and purpose they have known. Searching for their souls mislaid like shells beneath the tide; kneeling in the sand they weep, through torment they must bide. Thunder rocks the dreary skies; the angels lie to rest – they are just men who gave their all, but theirs was not the best. |
| < -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------> |
| < -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------> |
| Poemission |
| Sudden Dusk |