Not far away, from her cloud of white
Flies up another Angel, this time at night
He is carried upon thunder clouds of gray
Lightning flashes and the storm fades
This Angel is the soldier of Heaven
He is one of the sacred Seven
The Seven who protect the Holy Gates
Whose weapons of might decide the fates
Of every last Angel who rise against this place
But on this cloud of gray, blood runs down his face
For this is no beautiful death
This is a death of glory, fought to the last breath