I used to dream when I was young,
I would remove all of the thorns
of the most beautiful flowers
and place them in her hair,
lovingly,

Innocence is cute, its so divine,
then you grow up not so fine,
that girl you knew as a child,
can't even remember her name,
sadly,

There's a loneliness to every soul,
eating alone in a popular food court,
they may enjoy the meal, cooked well,
but in the end, solitary doesn't taste as good,

and love declines as the demon in you climbs
and now you realize, its a tragic  fairy-tale
and now the large world appears small
and insects on your skin now crawl,

The realization,
it makes you sick,
now, floating past the jetty,
the strands of her hair.....