As a child, she innocently climbed the branches of her backyard tree...
the mother once reached for the truth in the sky...
But the tree held her in its grasp
And so the woman in white lace
had to climb down
and say goodbye

A glass shattered on the ground
Reflections of a life once whole...
Black stones scattered at her small feet
Vanity's price took its toll...

Oh, the woman in white lace with a conch shell pressed to her ear
wants to listen to the oceans call
But her heart is made of tin
and she can't
hear
she can't hear
True beauty
falling on mermaids deaf ears
her quick to run away fins
icy blue tears

A cry escapes the mothers lips..
A plea for freedom, for release
But the tree's hold is unyielding
Her struggle never ceased

and in the silence of the Ireland night..
sometime's the tree releases its grip
and the mother falls to the ground,
Her spirit begins to lift... a little bit...
but not enough to hear the sound
of..wind and water

The woman in white lace turns around
There's a mirror...and
She knows deep inside,
She wants the truth to be
nearer
for her daughter
But the trees grip
is too strong
So she'll climb down
who says surviving is wrong

And the daughter has to climb up that tree
all alone......
in the dark of night

And the daughter becomes
the woman in white lace