People are funny.
Eyes open wide,
For men on pedestals.
Though these pretty boys,
Are not aware of their existence.

People are funny.
Screaming their lungs out,
Over a living doll on stage.
When a thorn pierces his finger,
They'd scorch the bush with rage.

People are funny.
What is the point,
For I see no winning here.
But the fairies of lines,
They'd always be near.

Bless the fairies of lines.
For they can be whatever,
Anything your heart desires.
They'd sprinkle some pixie dusts,
Their quirks you could admire.

Bless the fairies of lines.
For they'll always be there,
During rain or shine.
They never leave my side,
To tell me that all is fine.

But then my eyes are open.
Not just pretty faces,
For real talents they possess.
Even street rats in the sewer,
They treat with...