Flying into the empty room,
She feels the air suddenly stop rushing,
She saw pictures in her head.
Of the beam seeping politely
through the four windows,
To a place where the laughter
are as sweet as cherries,
And of the singing drizzle,
That turns into a shower outside.
The little pixie flutters around as she
That reflects the moonlight
on the faded crimson bed.
She hums the song of peace,
a song only siren could sing.
Her silver wings are made to
she frees the sparkly fireflies inside,
Painting the room with butterflies.
She brought back the beauty
Touch your art of life. Like a
She flies away through the four window
A reminder of her serene song.
Leaving behind the singing pixie.
She sang that peace is in
The little pixie flutters around as she
That reflects the moonlight
on the faded crimson bed.
She hums the song of peace,
a song only siren could sing.
Her silver wings are made to
she frees the sparkly fireflies inside,
Painting the room with butterflies.
She brought back the beauty
Touch your art of life. Like a singing
Her silver wings are made to
Touch your art of life. Like a singing pixie.
Her silver wings are made to
Touch your art of life. Like a singing pixie.
The little pixie flutters around as she
That reflects the moonlight
on the faded crimson bed.
She hums the song of peace,
a song only siren could sing.
Her silver wings are made to
she frees the sparkly fireflies inside,
Painting the room with but
She brought back the beauty
Touch your art of life. Like a
