Tears rain, Heaven cries
Men in ghostly array
How celestial dew turn bitter!
What is to come a dismay

Earthly decadence, Withering opulence
Mammal to earthly disorder
How providence turns virulence!!
Untold tale of “no escape” parable

Tears reign, Heaven’s turmoil
Assembly of beings on cross
How the haven to hell subscribe!!!
Home affords no salvation

Hellish magnificence, Exalted tumble
All beings of chaotic order era
Men of hailstorm and fiery delight
Shall destruction be a rhyme.

I will run to the Cross.
The hill where Christ died,
Dead with thee I shall be.
I have seen the blood.

The precious Crimson,
Beloved of them drawn.
I will taste the blood
Here quickening avail.

Her breathe stands her out
A lowly cradle stands high
I want to love her
I want to take her away from here
The loveliest of all loves her
She's perfection

I anguish her go unknown
They are all ****** blind
Not to know the loveliest of all
I've seen her presence to love her
My being witness she's lovely
How worthy of her been perfection

I love her, the world loves her
Why must you bore me soreness,
And contend over my love?
I ****** you for your soreness
Alas, to you I am naught
I am naught, naught!!!

Bottle up on me
So my heart fire holed up
Bottle up on me
So the flames never lit
You've always known
My flame is distinct
It burns relentlessly
It shall make you pained
So, bottle up on me
I shall burn for the bushel

Seal up on me
That my words be no dismay
Seal up on me
So the lips made no offense
This drop shall ripple
Should men and ghost unearth
Both shall hold naught up
But an afflict you wish gone
So, seal up on me
I shall hold my peace

Keep me away from here
So a thorn you have none
Keep me away from here
So your shadow never be lit
My heart fire is eternal
So is the lips ceaseless
I sting fiery relentlessly
Iring distress untold
So, keep me away from here
Even gone, my works reign.

Today we part to path no more
We were twain entangled like webs
At the onset of our lives
But now here, to say our final words

How we serve
In bowing and leaping
This joy, we have
Bestowed for keeping

How we fight
By word and blood
In chariot with kite
Plaguing the thorn

When we weary
Crossed with thoughts
And world we marry
Ah, a room for dross

Burdens we carry
Weighing just cruel
Though we, a Mary
Impregnated not fuel

Who shall save
Him, riding on waves
Him, we craves
Him shall save

Neither the Mountain
to me ought a thorn be,
Nor the deep Valley
present a hurt to my fall.

This Creation,
thy little lord should be.
This Creation
a Song stirred should please.
Alas, this Creation
a Fallen Man he is.

Whence affliction cometh forth?
From whence the hurt
that ****** my aches?
What suffereth my being to wail?
And wrought bareness
to wholeness of bones?

Bringing me to heights,
the Mountain should be.
Expounding me mysteries,
the Valley should delight.

Then, why speaketh thou
sore distress for my hurt?
Why casteth thou down,
and exalt my tribulations!!!

Hath thou no pleasure
in thine maker?
Nor any weariness
of His rebuke as a sword?

Surely, He formed thee
whole in perfection,
As for me, conceived
in darkness of the fallen,
Rejoice not in this afford.
For grace shall speak, Selah.