The white of their wings
Burns in splendid blaze.
The angels of the shepherd
Burning in the storm.

Their skin is equal to
The ashes of the holy book.
Innocent flesh
Burnt by sin.

Their blood so pure and tender
Satisfies my gloomy hunger.
My blasphemy shatters your faith.
Nothing lucid thrives all colours are dead.
The dissembling love of your barren master
Is uneffective.
It rebounds like reflected
By a darkened mirror.

I celebrate your fall and I am drinking your blood.
Your untouched beauty - dissolved by my hate.

Where is your saviour? Where is your god?

I pass the gory goblet
Among the angelcrowd.
And I force them
To drink the blood of their god.