Deny what makes a wind swept child a dreamer.
You'll never find
Quieter is safe.
For sure there's death's relief.
If not, without fail
every risk of will shall die.
In the end,
The fight on Earth is hard
Because it seems, as you kick her,
Mother was right.
Wind swept child,
Are a dreamer
As you are wild.
It takes little for some like us
To spread our legs and straddle
What is a small fire,
And reach so each breeze that threatens to hush
Will rush to rescind.
Speak like a liar and you just may win.
But, They cannot deny We.
They, who aspire rule by commandment,
Are destined for lies and sin.
But We dream, We desire.
We, The Fans of The Fire
Are children swept by the wind.