I felt desperate,
holding this sword of fate,
to take your breath away,
beneath your body that sway,
hate me as if you were there,
break me as the chains bear,
as your soul on a judgment tear,
of a sentinel that all which feared;
As for dawn rises,
legions will be free from the dice,
to made a pack with their kin,
as black as fringes that brings,
so give me your soul,
as I’m only a creature that foul,
for resurrecting ghouls underneath,
the City of the Dead that shift;
This bloodshed was just a mere sacrifice,
so that the blood spilled would suffice,
to keep us alive for this era,
where we live was just as far,
as we held this black wings,
a sign for our misery sins,
holding this sword that we spawn,
for we are only Angels of the Dawn.
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