She walked through the opal halls of heaven
with nothing but red high heels on.

She was the gold-plated gate swung so open
the hinges cracked under pressure,

Brass trumpets blared with every step she took
leaving oozing cracks in her wake.

The Powers and Virtues reached out their hand
to touch the eternal flame,

An Archangel dusted off the marble throne
and she laid across the arms, angels at her feet;

Camael had finally come home.