Sing me a song of angels, oh pious one,
Tell of me your virtues
Make me fall at your feet,
As you whisper your salvation hymn.
Oh, how blinded you are, my dear.
Don't you know?
That the brightest things are framed by stains
You spill white lies so honestly
That you don't notice the demons lurking under your tongue.
Fall at my feet, love.
Let me tell you my virtues
As I whisper my secrets into your snow-white heart.
Let me tell you that
I don't need your mercy.