Pray to hear the words I tell,

and pray to mark them well.

For I shall foretell your final victory

or your enemy's final mastery.

Behold! I see a delicate white rose;

who's beauty will merit all other's woes.

But like a caged bird, she will remain

trapped in her cold, enclosed domain.

For all of time she'll stay within its concealed walls,

until her soul withers, and falls.

Yes, she shall descend into sinking dejection;

forever she shall be surrounded by the depths of seclusion,

and here she shall stay.

Until the hand of the lion shall take her away;

Her soul will start to rise, until his masked sins emerge with betrayal and dread,

this shall tear her tender heart to shreds.

And thus my black hearted friend,

the time to take your revenge will be at hand.

But beware the raven's wrath and angel's tears;

for if the devil's bird sings, it will also arise all your fears.

Mark me well this warning I heed,

For if the angel's hands stain red

the curse and chance shall end,

with your death my unfortunate friend.