In sorrow they sinned
And now their story is sung on the wind
Forsaken and cursed, they travelled this word
Into darkness they were twisted and hurled
But not without first leaving their mark
Listen well, for in the song of the lark
Their story is told
In the cold
They came from places hidden
A protected paradise to return they were forbidden
For that crime which they had done
From which they could never run
Nor could they hide
From those who had violently died
On their sin followed them
Haunting their steps and singing curses of him
The one who led
Upon his name, a curse was laid, now in no grave lies he dead
In fire - it is said - he came
And even though through deeds he gained fame
His crimes were too big
A hole he would dig
Too large to from flee
Too proud to see
The truth until far too late
In fire he came, in fire he met his fate
Thus passed the greatest of them all
Never to leave the Waiting Hall*
(* - The Halls of Waiting, Mandos' Halls, Halls of Mandos etc. The order of the first changed around to rhyme)
