An innocent little girl Hungry for wisdom But she searches in places so unsafe Unaware, and uncautious A dark and rainy, Sunday afternoon At the misty field, over the hill She's walking alone, on her own little paths Knowing nothing of what this day will bring As she is standing by the pond Her eyes catch a glimpse Of a shiny, white shape Heart beating faster now, as she approaches the form Nervous but helplessly drawn To see what's before her eyes As she's coming closer, she's struck with fear Before her feet, lies an angel, bleeding Her wings torn, asunder Like a helpless prey Consumed by a vicious beast Her figure drenched in blood Seeming nearly, human As she is lying there Like a helpless victim As she gaze into her eyes A voice from beyond enter her mind A frightening tale of the final truth A tale from the land of the dead