Mystery song, playing in the background,

I thought it was a love song.

Struck by a blunt force,

Brutally unaware, I was caught up in a Hailstorm.

Mystery song, playing in the background,

It was a hymn of arsenals.

My pink-orange skies, now tainted by a black smear.

Deep in the innocence, found myself at the mercy of the lightning,

Mystery song playing in the background,

I thought it was a love song.

First destroyed, then aware,

No more mystery, it was a ballad of the Hailstorm.

All Hail the Gods of cruelty, desintegrity, thunder and destruction;

The scars can still be found, if you look carefully.