Beneath the sun where treasures lie,
Amongst the dust, the years gone by,
A plastic kingdom waits unseen,
Locked in a case of midnight sheen.
The dark lord guards the trove inside,
Hollow tubes where whispers hide.
A relic's weight, the past takes flight,
In Vader's hands, the stars ignite.
Through the bins, our hearts aspire,
For relics born of molten fire.
Blasters real, they float in streams,
Dreams fulfilled in vintage scenes.
The Jedi's blades, their saber tips,
Untouched by time, with perfect grips.
Three wield the Force in fragile glow,
Their legend forged in tales we know.
A cloth cape drapes what vinyl framed,
Slight sorrow speaks, but joy remains.
Each figure worn, yet still they sing,
A symphony of everything.
From desert sand to ice planet snow,
Their plastic hearts still overflow.
We search for more, these ghosts of play,
The echoes of another day.
Through the bins, our hearts aspire,
For relics born of molten fire.
Blasters real, they float in streams,
Dreams fulfilled in vintage scenes.
And in the case, the past revives,
The Force endures, it always thrives.
Each figure tells what once has been,
A galaxy reborn within
Through the bins, our hearts aspire,
For relics born of molten fire.
Blasters real, they float in streams,
Dreams fulfilled in vintage scenes.