Aberdeen

It is autumn in this eastern town, the lanterns flicker and glow.
Weapons of steel, flesh for a meal, this world is such an empty shadow.
I am sent here to guard a man in a church, sitting in the third from last row.
An evangelist has come to tell these people the word, the word that this man has not known.

I walk into the building unseen by the preacher; the widows, the children, the man.
I cannot intervene, nor tell what I've seen, only unsheath my sword and there stand,
For the fallen have come to this little church too, to turn away from the word who they can.
Most have now chosen the word or the fallen, their joy or their sorrow is grand.

I cannot speak with the man, nor drive him to choose, only the Spirit does this.
The fallen have no such rules or restrictions, and one is speaking to him of lost bliss.
If he chooses the word I can move in, and strike the demon away; ne'r a miss.
If he chooses the fallen, and drives me away, I must leave him to his crisis.

The demon stands back now, his deceptions sunk in, the man must now, alone, decide.
I pray for the man, hoping he will choose right, that with us he will someday abide.
That I can soon call him a brother, that he will repent, that in the Father's love he will reside.
If he will only choose the word... oh please choose the word.... do not from the Lord's great love hide...

I cast a sad glance at my old brother, who is waiting for the man's fall.
He has the same hope, the same hope as I, but that the man will heed Helel's call.
I on his left, the demon on his right, the preacher keeps speaking to all.
His words matter not now, nor the fallen's, nor mine, the horse must now choose his own stall.

His face is now troubled, he is deep in his thoughts, running the choice through his head,
The demon moves in to further his cause; I hold him away with my sword burning red.
We stare at eachother, in his eyes hate, knowing for sin his future is dead,
Sorrow in my eyes, sadness for my brother, knowing he was shown mercy but chose his own pride instead.

My wings are white, his wings are black, we look back down to the soul.
I hope, I pray, I would die here this day, If he would simply just heed the word's pull.
And, then, he makes up his mind. His teeth start to grind, into his head his eyes roll,
The word has pierced him, his heart is aflame, and in the battle, the heat... he says "No.".

My spirit sinks.. my hope all now dashed, for he has now chosen his way.
The evangelist turns and looks at the listener, thinking 'what did he say..',
The man stands up and cries "NO" again; and turns, breaking away.
He escapes from the church, the preaching and me, my "brother", the widows who pray;

My soul deeply sighs, the fallen one laughs, as we watch the man flee from the scene,
Slowly I move and walk out the door, as the dark one's laughter is keen,
I feel the sorrow of heaven, the Lord and the angels, flowing throughout my whole being.
I spread out my wings and resheath my sword, and return to glory from "Aberdeen".