A faceless cloud, with a shroud.
Turned back with a ray, casted upon her past.
Wearing this guilt and sorrow on her sleeve, "it's like a disease!" she said, on her knees.
Treads, soft and low.
So distant now, colder than the lower light, she surprised.

Blank lake, with tall pine trees, she sees.
With dull realities, her eyes peeling on their wings.
"Your torturing me like a bee!", they said.
Startled star, unending with a light, she sighed.

American model beauty, with a curl, here's the model of the world!
Glittering each starry eye she twirled in her color bound dress all around.
Oh, in her own in this hour above.
Billows, she derobed with her dense smile.

Little guilty beauty?
Whose the one to take your soul?
God ridden so high, but she derobed in her burning eyes.

"Oh messenger!, a model you've known so long, am I to be alone?"
"Fantasy model, shalt she know the knowledge in such an envious heaven?"

"Not so!", said the voice of God passed by in the realms so high.
"Quiet!", she called with winds withering inside like the sky.
Rays of light shinned through her purple hair, with a haze that gleamed in her eye.

On pillars wings, clung in the ring of the 'Too late to save'.
"Oh Shepherd!, on my bed, I hope that you've forgiven me!"

An uttered rainy sound of joy in the moons in the sky!
This twilight reveled, like a wave in the sky!
"Too late to save? This marble beauty of poise!"
In the white sky they died shaking their wings so high.

"Careless without a fright? Down with your one single mind solitude!"
"Will your melody run with the breeze of my closed eye?"

"Leave and depart from me! Maiden!"
Kisses of your polluted smile; "could this be true love"? They said.

"Your mirror of joy, that you've destroyed on this falsehood, dwelled abode. My globe that flung with a passionate love. I hurled and was dizzy from your grim smile. With my falling and failing hours that I motioned to you. Should I remember you in this autumn heaven?"

Sprang from the truth, she weeped.
Away with a flame, awoke with such power.
On withered pillars wings, grew on her eyelids of hope.
Loved them this night so tight, from a mist draped over the wall.
Life-like and holy of them all, he trembled to the orb of this beauty.

He mangled and fell from the good and godly spirit and whaled.
"Of the waking hours you choose to grow so well!"
Hand picked and honored with such joy, she sprang!
Filled with life once again and no longer the slave!
For this American model beauty is saved.