Little black boxes
and pumpkin cars
happy, singing crickets
make a wish on shooting stars
Bitter, red lines
on Princess's skin
Reader, didn't you know?
even angels sin..
But lock it all up
the ball's ever near
hides behind her mask
fake smiles, real tears
But twirl so pretty
silken gowns, happy face
masquerade dances
spinning, filled with grace
Oh, beautiful black box
forgetten in time
and the stroke of midnight hour
takes away the "just fine"
But the pumpkin never shows
and Cinderella sits alone
wishing on a falling star
only wanting a solid home
Poor little girl
so alone, so afraid
makeup all smudged
hair loose from its braid
The clock strikes three
and she's still by herself
realizes falling stars
are of absolutely no help
Say good night to Princess
she's still sitting on the steps
magic glass slippers, black boxes
how easily we forget...
