When I was young, I was born with a silver spoon
The paper airplanes were dollar bills, doubloons were stars and moons
And my father wore a velvet glove on his iron fist
The eggshells I walked would crumble like chalk; I had no complaints- they were diamond encrusted
But times have changed, the moneymaker's deranged, the silver spoon's tarnished and rusted
It dissolved into sand in my work-callousless hand
And moths feast on the fund I was trusted.

Butting heads and jumping mountains,
Fiery ram am I
I have no wings or feathers but on swift hooves I can fly
I sometimes wish I wasn't burning,
but any cooler and I wouldn't be so bright
And my love'd be dying coals instead of an inferno of red light
Oh, I know I can be passionate, I know I sometimes look for fights,
I know that I am stubborn, strange and always must be in the right
But know I'll never hurt you, This fire can be soft and warm
And trust that I won't burn you
Even though this ram has horns