A gentle feather,

Upon the wind,

A lithe figure,

The dancer of death.

Her cries fall upon deaf ears,

Her saddened songs,

Slow and mournful,

Gentle and sweet,

Golden tears falling.

She is forever dancing,

Amid the gun fire below,

She calls out,

Holding the blood caked body,

Of the innocent.

Playing upon the world,

A gentle feather,

Upon the wind,

Her melancholy soul,

Reaching insanity in the darkness.