I'm sat astride a throne in heaven,
I believe I need to cry,
I'm in the circle of the Eleven,
They're ugly in my eyes,
And as the snow begins to fall,
The hunter prowls the ground,
On it he stands tall and proud.

Lead me to the path that winds the wind,
Show me, the way to the resurrection,
Sorry, father for I have sinned,
Show me to this fallen connection,
I am thinking about correction,
For now in your arms I lay bleeding,
Do I still belong in your special selection?
Your broken system on my soul is feeding.

What could I say as you pushed me away?
Making me fall down to this dank place,
Even the night is better than the day,
In broken mirrors my displaced face,
Seems to haunt my twisted figure,
For broken wings and distorted things,
Surely what I think, I cannot say?