They had been angels sitting on clouds for
ten thousand years playing the harp, but
since they were in a timeless environment
They didn't want knot, only filled with a sense of
ennui that came from sitting on a cloud void
of touch, and they also miss not being hungry
and thirsty, and feeling sad for throwing one out
off the cloud, he had no ear for music.

They objected to god who took off his mas showing
A face a hole so endlessly deep that if it was white,
told they were his illusion now they had to make a choice
either continue playing the golden harp or vanish into the big
white hole; they choose the instrument. God put his mask on,
and bitter silence wafted like an ill omen through the galaxy.