A self-penned ditty…
Wishing Well (A new space)
The cold-eyed girl with golden hair, wonders why she’s going nowhere
Her hands are tied but her mind’s made up, she’s got to get out of there
The golden boy with his eyes of blue, feels just the same, thought he’d broken through
But, now he sees the world anew, a hard and bitter place
Indifferent and unabating, the words of scorn anticipating
The end of dreams, a shattered rating, still last to leave the stage
Stepping up. For fame and glory, their tale they hope to tell
The rusty blade is twisted, if it’s all the same
Might’s well kiss on the wishing well
The cold-eyed girl with greying hair, wonders why she’s still nowhere
Her apron’s tied but her mind says where, she’s got to get out of there
The golden boy with a tarnished air really always thought that he didn’t care
And now he knows it’s really not fair, puts on his bitter face
Indifferent and agitating, no words left for anticipating
The faded dream, so sick of waiting, still hopes to take the stage
Stepping up. For fame and glory, their tale they hope to sell
But, the blade is twisted, if it’s all the same
Might’s well kiss on the wishing well
Might’s well kiss on the wishing well
Might’s well kiss on the wishing well