Wise angels only hum and hide their wings
Watching silently from heaven of the trivial human things

They see us and they groan
Because we are doomed: everything is set in stone

Twisting an turning fate keeps us ever outside their hands
They stand on the shore of Rubicon but on the opposite side of the sands

They seek not a chisel or a knife to carve out our names
To erase us from the universe; to bathe us in flames

But they never seek to glorify the lives we live
They will watch us die

And though their cheeks be bathed with tears
For a little boy lost before his years

The threads of fate they dare not touch
The woven power is far too much

But instead they hum their soft sweet songs
Wondering if maybe the Fates were wrong

They feel remorse for the living but they care for the shades
Because each and every one of them have fought their own crusades

Wise angels’ eyes glisten with pent up grief
Because they can do nothing but shape our belief