Trapped In Husk Of A White Crow-Twilight Ophera

So falleth the chalice of dawn, Thralls of flame hellborn Vultures of myriad crowns Claimed her as their own Higher and higher she rose, Clouds of blessed to breach Seventh heaven to reach If faith could last one breeze No blame did reach her opaque shade Nefalim to machinate what pride and hate dare to unleash, Thou curious the spirit was still bereaved, For what lust mould as silver wings Diadem cursed as hex ravening, nemesis to purge ...Fly away Carnal shades caught winds, steel to cleave what dawn brings Bezonian fire in her eyes, ascending towards empyrean skies Wounded skies, libertine, on feathers this blood shall crust Fear of lies to mesmerize, she soars with wings of rust