You hear the Fallen Angel, a' knock, knock, knocking at your Prison door.
Sitting on the tomb stone, he has turned your Dream into his Whore
Telling of forgotten prophecies as he is dragged out onto the stormy shore.
Taken from the grave were he was born, were he slept forever, after Midnight's Dawn!
You hear the Fallen Angel, a' knock, knock, knocking at your Prison door . . .



Penned by my hand on the 18th of Lupar, in the year 273 AF.