Rain of the Unredeemed

No trumpet sounds from golden gates,
Only the choir of endless rain.
The fallen souls here curse their fates,
On the borderland of grief and pain.
Their tears drip down from heights unknown,
Where heaven's light has turned to grey.
They wander naked and alone,
With no one left to hear them pray.

This is the rain of the unredeemed,
Of those who lost the narrow way.
Between the worlds, they drift and stray —
Forgotten, broken, unseen.
Rain of tears, so cold and deep,
Wash the memory from the stone.
They have no rest, they have no sleep,
They wander, nameless and alone.

Through hollow skies they walk forlorn,
Between the living and the dead.
Neither saved nor ever born,
With anguished whispers in their head.
Each drop that falls is a silent cry,
Each puddle mirrors their despair.
They reach for light — but cannot fly,
No heaven hears, no hell will care.

This is the rain of the unredeemed,
Of those who lost the narrow way.
Between the worlds, they drift and stray —
Forgotten, broken, unseen.
Rain of tears, so cold and deep,
Wash the memory from the stone.
They have no rest, they have no sleep,
They wander, nameless and alone.

Hallelujah... but the choir is mute.
Hallelujah... in the void.
Their voices cracked, their strings are loot,
By angels long destroyed.

This is the rain of the unredeemed,
Of those who lost the narrow way.
Between the worlds, they drift and stray —
Forgotten, broken, unseen.
Rain of tears, so cold and deep,
Wash the memory from the stone.
They have no rest, they have no sleep,
They wander, nameless and alone.

The gates are shut. The earth is gone.
Only the water, only the grey.
The rain keeps falling — on and on —
For those who lost their way.