There is the hole that I dug for my green dragon’s pillow
Over here is Teddy I drenched with my tears
Now you could say they’re lifeless
and couldn’t very well die
in the presence of willows
that cried through the years
and still come by.

I thought I’d buried my fairy-tale corpses
Those illusions I can’t
very well keep alive, they’re dead
Dead, but they keep on rising
from the graves that I made them
Tombstones of fate
above their very head.

Come meet Cinderella, next to Red Ridinghood
I liked listening to, not how it was
but to the way that it should
I fear faces of beauty
You worship the game of could he?
but I can’t get in that mood
that I hold so dear.

(refr.)

All those battles I came out
not winning a hand
Cursing and mocking the generals
and claimers of sand
mud and nothing other
All the stories that aren’t true
All the glory I should feel
while all I wanted was you…

(refr.)