She falls asleep wishing for the angel to arrive,
Black wings and bloody swords to cut her soul...
Azrael awaits the journey far away.
Laying around, her head on the ground
With his arms tight around her,
With his wings wrapped too tight...
Her hair all around him,
Together they fell.
Azrael's jacket draped tightly around
Her pale, ice-cold skin is so soft...
The blood on the concrete
Is cold.
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