In mockery we are born, in deceit we die
Flashing blades, pounding hearts
A twisted work of perfect art
Faithful servants, never aware
Never wondering, never cared
Our wings torn, before we could fly
Tools of yet another kind
Our own destiny, we'll never find
How can we ever reach Mother Sky
When we never had a chance to try?
We suffer, as our saviors stand arrogantly by
Into our lives, crimson blood seeped
Where are you, Andalites, as we helplessly weep?
Not me, who made eyes close in eternal sleep
Forgive us, Father Deep!
All because we are not evil, wicked or sly…
Simply accept this torturing fate
We refused to hurt, refused to hate
We avert from the stains on our hands
Our hearts still a pure, untainted land
In mockery we are born, in deceit we die
Our wings torn, before we could fly
We suffer, as our saviors stand arrogantly by
All because we are not evil, wicked or sly…