Burning Dreams

You lifted me up
From within my cradle of ignorance,
My bed of pity and sorrow,
In a pool of blood and snow.

You picked me up
With an all knowing smile,
And proceeded to polish me,
To refine and perfect me
Using only a shirt covered in
The blood of the sane.

Oh baby, won't you please,
Please, please just lift me up
And deem me a liar?
You know how much more
Comfortable i feel when I'm
Dying, laughing and crying
inside of your fire, your essence,
My desire…

I can't help but dream, to hope,
to possibly redeem some sick sad
whisper of a frayed freedom rope.
I can't possibly expect or be expected
To win in the light shadow of your glory,
Your fame, and your story.

What am I to you? Some kind of sick,
Unforgiving, cruel fantasy?
Fairy wings and dragon blood?
Am I a sacrifice? An archaic transposition
Ready to bend to your alter ego of a will?

No I can not be..
I can not be.

I can't, and there is only one question left to ask.
It pains and it haunts me, but all the same
It needs to be let free. To ravage not only me,
But you as well.

If only you would remove me from your cold,
Stone mantel. If only you would set me in the flames.
Set me down and call me a liar,
You very well know it all is better when I am dying
Inside of your fire.