Tyrant

The dreamers, so sweet they were
Enchanted by all the mist,
rivers of green and pearl
Prisoners at my closed fist.

"Let them go" - the grunges implored
wavering a tall white flag
but my heart made of gold
denied such a drag

Alienated from all that
my love was stronger than thought
and believing in a brighter future
I was blind to the luck I bought.

In the end, supposedly
Colours should blasted my eyes
but the sickness was too harsh
and stone am I, they were just lies.