Blindfolded angels fall with bloody tears. Pure grace and misery, all the corruption of our innocence and sanity. And you dare asking me why do I cry. Do you feel as I feel? Do you see as I see? Or is it me, am I the one who sees everything in a different way? Does another heart weeps when an angel falls? I know you can’t tell me. And you dare asking me why do I cry.

Have you ever taken the path that leads to destruction? Have you ever seen the primrose rot in the fiery breath of Hades? I know you haven’t. I know you’ll never feel the beauty of her bloody tears, I know you will never see the beauty in her fall. I know you will never feel the way I feel, I know you will never see the beauty written in us all. But I do wonder if anyone else does.

In velvet darkness we walk my dear. We are all blind, but we do feel. Sometimes I wonder why. Have you ever seen one? A fallen angel, so much beauty and fragility, her blackest eyes blindfolded by the clothes of heaven, her blood stained tears draping behind them. I guess you haven’t. Have you ever felt the hatred of men when they are blindfolded, have you ever felt the blind rage and blood lust? Have you ever seen the blind brutality of this race of blindfolded men? Don’t you wonder why angels fall? Why, once blindfolded, they may hate. And you dare asking me why do fallen angels cry. Can’t you see my dear? They cry because you are blind.