And if heavens never do open their gates for me tonight

I'm ready to spiral into hell

To let these feathers be singed

To be branded into the depths

For the sin of existing as I do

I'll weave wreaths from the flowers of Lethe's riverbanks

Pretend they are the halo that everyone seeks

I'll wander like a wraith, shrouded

And if there are no heralds announcing my coming

Let it be the Furies

Singing of me existing as I did

I would walk on the rivers of burning fires with ease

After all, I survived worse in the land of the living

And if heavens are afraid of letting their white to be stained

With the sin of my existence

Then I will choose to bask in the red of the fires below

My skin has worn that colour underneath for a long time now.

If these wings were never meant to take me to the zenith

Then I will create hurricanes with their beating

Right from where I stand

So everyone will know, I have existed as I did

If you bind my right to live with ancient whispers

Scattered away from truth by the winds of time,

Then I will wear the brand of a heretic proudly on my skin

As I do in my heart.

If my heart was never meant for a heaven of make-believe

So be it, I will forge a world for myself from the fires of hell

Cursed as you claim I am, for existing as I do

Fool! You are the only one that curse fetters

For I have learnt to live with the leathery black of my burnt feathers

And you are cocooned in the pristine blankness of your white

They carry you further and further away from the grounded truth

The skies you fly to are smaller than your heart

So if I have sinned for existing as I do

Then I will embrace the depths of my choice

I will fall.