• Through many Sin,
    These lives of ours,
    Will have only begin,
    Because at the brink of midnight, Upon your shoulder will rest my chin,
    And so softly, i shall breath you in.

    Will shine the dark sky,
    And under the bright moon, the angels will cry,
    But in that fateful night, Witnissed I your bountiful death,
    The last thing you felt was the warmth of my breath.

    Shall the warmth of my respiration,
    bring a lovely relaxation,
    As you begin the transformation,
    To being of an ancient nation.

    Under the night sky i will breath you in,
    For the threads of your soul were nothing but thin,
    And you will regret your forsaken sin,
    As i softly breath you within.