Made of the afterglow of crumbling races,
Sweet Child, fall into the abyss.
I can't promise I'll catch you,
But I can promise I'll watch you fall.
You'll land amongst the bittersweet embers,
Of a shamed angel caught aflame.
Your tears will be washed away in the sea,
As you slowly start to drown.
Such a tragic ending for one so kind,
But I'm growing accustomed to seeing such things.
I've watched you die a thousand deaths, if not more,
Knowing the whole time I could have saved you.
Such innocence deserves to die for th