From the heavens fall tears of the weeping divine.
Yet as they plummet their sorrow turns to rime.
Foreboding our wicked judgement, this terrible sign.
Naught may free us from past’s crime.
One fool walks in solitude, pelted by hail.
From her own hearth and home was she driven.
The young Iceheart, with long locks and skin pale.
Stepped towards the heavens for all to be forgiven.
