• Burn, angels, burn…in a pyre of torn wings…

    Dance, demons, dance…to the melody of their screams…

    Sleep, humans, sleep…till the chime of the bell…

    And awaken, awaken… in the catacombs of hell…

    Having flown far too close to the sun, the helpless little moths were doomed to forever burn in their lovely, lovely hell.

    So flitter and scream…flitter and scream.