Origins Poem by The Lastdon

These spirits, that had fly, to the heavens, but let die,

for a serpent that sings, for the angel with no wings,

So set sail, his skin so pale, my hope is so broken, my bones are so frail.

This time will send, had fallen and when, the judge that has come, for all that has sin.

For the savior was sought,

that fester and rot,

as the days will end, with the hell sent hot,

and again I have not, prayed,

but plot,

as the dying of creations, brings life that is not.