Night drawn from the domes of heaven
Falls towards me
A stream of shadow motes
Ebon black and chilling

Drawn into a chalice
Clasped tight in my icy hands
Tears like falling rain
Mix and accrete

A cup of bitter wine is formed
Born of night and despair
Tortured faces and hands
Reach from the surface

Like the avenging second angel
I pour out the chalice
Into the sea
And all running water
Turns to blood

So all men
May drink of my sorrow
And know endless night
Forever