Only the Angel's wept
Only the angel's wept that night.
On the cold stone street of Paris lay a man
A man that God had gifted with power and music but
No one would look to the man he was
Only the Angels wept
Man destroyed him,
His only love had hated him and he died in the sorrow of his Soul.
His cape flows in the wind, his own blood stains it.
Emerald eyes look to heaven,
No depth, no life
In his left open palm lays a bloodied red rose,
With it was tied a black ribbon, and a ring.
The thrones were turned to silver by the moon.
He wanted to see his love one last time, to see her grave.
He only knew hate but wanted love but no one give it.
Where was his music now?
Beside his bloodied body
His mask lay is pieces like glass, stained with blood…his blood.
No one but the Angels wept that night…
For this man called Erik…one who could have ruled the world with love and music.
Erik is dead