Brisa Maia (7/11/96 / Belohorizonte, Brazil)

One night in the graveyard of angels, I was walking
That night I saw an angel, saw her crying
Her wings broken, torn, hurt, she was dying…

Angel, such a beauty, fallen from the heavens garden,
I watched her soul escape in the little tears
To see her there, so deadly wounded, it was a burden
She was lost, fallen, dying, filled with fears

She was lying on the cold whit marble plate
To help her I tried, but it was too late
In the pool of blood, to die was her fate…

Angel stared at me, I heard her silent cries
Pale little form on a pool of so red blood
Angel, so fragile thing with beautiful eyes,
In rage I cried, next one who dies will be God…

I took angel in my arms, kissed, loved, and held her near,
Gave my warmth, word of hope I whispered in her ear
God will pay for this crime, my love, do not fear.