As flowers on the grave of earth inferno
We are all good people
Dressed not in white we are
Ascendants of heaven
In a symbolic imaginative essence
Descending angels we are
Falling as rain to impure the ground
And to flourish as flowers
Before we wither
With a scent of heavenly dew

As time that gnaws on the bones of life
We are the floating liquid flesh
The crawling sinners we are
Melting the heavens

To be continued...