The phoenix she watches us. The people of her. How they lay below her. Kissing her feathery gown. The fire around us dances. Our souls take flight. We watch her spitefully. Without eyes we notice naught what she tells of lies.
Our trust it wavers, like her fiery crown. Our words they amuse her. Our gifts given upon her frown. Her smile it warms us yet her hatred it burns us.
We die from heat. We die from cold. Taken away we sleep that eternal sleep. Give it back, the same. Such unfair treatment of us. Her people.

The lady of the fire. her song awakes us. Her tears they heal us. Her words enchant us. And her feathers empower us.
We are nothing but her toys. The phoenix’s toys. She plays us as candles play the flame. And thus we envy her. We envy her freedom. How we are chained down and she takes of in flights. Yet in spite of all this we will follow. Obedient be our souls.
She claims to know us. We claim to see. This hate upon love tragedy.
In her heart, in our soul. The same fire it resides. It flutters and it dies. Only hers will awaken again.

Fin