Cursed to breathe within the existential realms of sacred beauty and of sacred death I am a sad forsaken inmate of the night I exist in broken form and crawl among the refuse of the city in her tomb of joyous plague and I shall fall into this nest of darkness with concrete as the haven of my salvage but I am as unyielding to the wisdom of her torment as I am faithful to the spirit of my quest to hold The Bleeding Angels