He was a choirboy

Little angel of the melodies


Childish eyes, the soprano

Like innocence, like prey


Little lamb, little lamb,

Mary doesn't have to know


His solos now stained with his tears

He sings he mourns he cries


Salva me, salva me

What a voice, what a boy


Ringing, dancing through the church

In which he was betrayed


His choirmaster the friendly priest

But unholy, unholy.

A/N: Thanks for reading. Probably I'm unholy for writing this. But uh, I've recently been re-addicted to the Libera choir. So. O_o