Hayze

A sweet little girl, oh what a shame
That lately things don't seem the same
A once pure heart burns now a hateful blaze
What once used to be is now a purple hayze

On the seventeenth of March, nineteen sixty seven,
an innocent child fell from the grace of heaven.
Consumed by Hell's fire, tarnished in the pit's grime,
is she cursed till tomorrow or just the end of time?