An angel with golden wings/stands in front of the eternal judgment seat/the devil's blood stained his lovely hands and feet, and is in a state of confusion/the father and son/know that a struggle has begun/they know that Satan has broken free of the chains/leads millions of demons/and is challenging the world again/before the angel can finish his words/a pleasant sneaking sound/like the sound of wings brushing/has been clearly discernible/in front of the seven archangels/the everlasting lamp that illuminates the heaven forever/suddenly dark. "
(Because I couldn't think of a copy, I grabbed Shelley's poems to fill in the numbers. -_-||| Forgive me)