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Come, come, come smell my cinders, i smote their ruin, the riches i bare in my dragons lair.
Deep in the mountains, in the caverns of old, i perch on my lair, my lair of gold.
My dragon soul, is the breath of us all, the spark that ignites, from the ashes i crawl.
Cinders black, my passion flairs, like spirals of smoke rising on the air.
The scales of my hide glisten and gleam.
I am but, a beautiful, yet fierce some dream.
My golden hoard is the wealth of your soul, the seeking, the riches, the knowledge untold.
My dragon lines flow across this land, my energies embrace this wizened earth, open now to those who prove thier worth.
Beware, beware, do not awake me in my lair, for i will raise the flames of old, i am made of fire and fire i hold.
I am but a dragon, a guardian of your soul, you don't want to rouse me in the depths of my home.
For my coils are but, the spiralled journey, we all take, and the treasure i guard is your deepest soul, wake me, and i will char your skin, i will char your skin deep from within.
For i am but a dragon, and i can raise the flames of old, i am made of fire and fire i hold.
Penny Leyson Young