You burnt my wings.
                                                   I love to fly but you burnt my wings.

And all these memories are racing through my head as the ground gets closer and closer in a race to see which will end first.
                                                               My past or my present.  

                             Air is thundering through my ears and my hair     is dancing on my head like the flames had danced across my wings, consuming.

                                                I love to fly and you love to taunt.
                                 The closer I got, the warmer it became.

The closer I got and I could taste your flame.

I didn't know you'd let me fall.
                       Strip my wings and let me fall.

I recall each feather furl as it burned turning to ash, leaving a cloud in my wake.

                                          A wingless bird enjoying the view.
                                                     Gravity has got me in it's fist and                                                                    wi­ll never stop pulling me down    while you watch me shrink to a dot.

But I must know, how did they taste?

                                   You drew me in and
                                                   plucked each feather.

                                    I watched as you ate.

The ground meets my face and another meets his fate.