Hidden between the heaven and earth, on plump clouds of painted grey. Lays a child of immortal youth, who's eyes shed tears of yesterday.

Small hands that just can't touch, what he hears in the angels song. Hair of gold and cheeks flushed pink, he obediently sings along.

Above our world he watches, sadness written on his boyish face. Never able to escape his fate, or this lonely place.

His sobs are hidden by the wind, his tears fall from endless skies. Ruin is always asking him, why it is he cries.

It spills out in overflow, emotion this holy child can't contain. Dripping forth from above, and comes to us as rain.