Sixteen trees, seven birds and me
what's going on, is this a jungle or a garden?
Tripping feet, flaxing wings
magic trees turning yellow and red from green
Yeah, this was another year spent in fairyland
the creatures of the wood, they came to me
loved to see them, the midgets too
still, I wondered where my Stepmother could be
and there she was, wanting her piece of cake
beauty is the culprit, it turns our heads
brains spills and runs out that way
not my fault, but neither was it hers
what we have we lose in time, 17 isn't 71
choking on that apple I heard the mirror speak:
"Oppose me and I oppose you, stay beautiful or die"
Dead in my coffin of glass, desperate in my sleep
absolutely dead, dead, dead - and then not
no frog, but a prince, and this love sets me free
beauty the culprit, beauty the key out of that death
Originally Posted On Site: 2009-09-27 06:58:10
Last Login: 05.22.12
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