Loving you and loving we.
A flame of passion, don't you see?
Bringing light, bring warmth, the colour not grey.
As we dance with our mother, every night to day.
But lasting memories, change as time comes along.
While we dance far away, from our mothers song.
The flames die out, leaving us cold and grey.
Till us decided no, to light our own way.
Little is the lady, the boy, and the person.
From the liquid of ashes, broke out to worsen.
Our mother is distraught, as our fires lick her feet.
Burning down all the truths, and the we's memories.
So now the trees burn, the family, has departed.
Elder bother, is concerned, us littles disregard it.
Mother is dying, yet we continue, what we started.
While we run around, death, it's all we've carted.
From once we were dancing, now wars come our way.
The I rules the west, we haven't, got a say.
Descending despite friction, don't you all see?
From loving to hating, from we and me.
Good one