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)