I care not for the boxed city behind the walls
Look to the white sheeted hills where I stand
In all my emerald glory ready to release my fiery terror upon the ones who stupidly scorned

Ostrasised for my peculiarity

'Fire breathing' they shouted
'Witch' they chanted

What do they know of being different..
Nothing

My cold wet hand holds my burning-orb
Fate will release its hand on this dark dark night

Sheep to the slaughter
Sheep to the slaughter