I need no sustenance to survive;
I need not food nor faith to thrive.
I cast aside dear Father's grace
Just to see her face.
Her beauty plain yet rests unmatched;
Nay when she lived, nay still as she lay.
By Father's hand a plan was hatched,
As I watched.
Her world destroyed, torn asunder
By wars waged I had caused.
Knowing naught, I brought down Heaven's thunder
And mourned what I had lost.
I paint no blame upon her, soft,
Innocent and lame.
It was then I unleashed an anger
Not even Hell could tame.
Thrust forth my sword, let fall my shield,
Proclaiming my dissent:
"Father, you no longer have my blade,
I will not repent.
Through every age, at your command,
And still you would do me wrong.
But what will you do, Father
When your Soldier of Faith is gone?"
Hurled down my pride, my truth;
Forever in the guise of youth.
Spurned my wings, marked divine,
I rebelled against my kind.
I left the gates of paradise
To find her my intent,
And headed for the gates of Hell,
Where I knew she would be sent.