always came to win.
You knock her down,
but she stands again.
Her dirty socks,
her sick mind,
her pleasing smile,
her daydreams in disguise.
My Prince is out there,
out there somewhere,
she's determined to find.
But where oh where
has little Cinderella gone?
Her cinder-streaked hands,
her unfashionable shoes,
her dull eyes,
her masqueraded daydreams?