The golden princess locked in a tower,
that schoolgirl dream of an idle hour.
That worthy steed, that gallant knight.
That gleaming sword, the righteous fight.
In the million stories that I weave.
I do believe, I do believe.
The fool's gold, that crumbling tower.
Those sweet delights, they end up sour.
That passing day, those lonely nights.
Those streaming tears, that endless fight.
And as through powdered glass I sieve.
I still believe, I still believe.
Those withered dreams, that haunted tower.
Those faded pictures in my bower.
That childish notion of wrong and right.
That blackness that consumes my nights.
Makes me wonder how I was so naive
I'll never believe, I'll never believe.
A dawning day, her sunlit tower.
She'll soon awake to find that now her
demons flee in the morning light.
She's ready now, unafraid to fight.
The time is past, she knows, to grieve.
She will believe, she will believe.