• Once upon a time,
    far away and long ago,
    lived a pretty little girl,
    eyes of fire, skin of snow.

    She's bathing in the morning glow,
    the Sun revealing what we know
    as an evening campfire fairytale
    Strum my guitar, sit back and tell
    of a storybook that was born to fail
    and the life of an angel lost in hail.

    Blizzard swirling, churning, burning,
    Frigid gusts and clouds still turning,
    Can't hold on much longer to this ground, melting away

    Hands are frostbit, no more feeling
    Blinding snow starts her hands peeling
    Sucked up into the sky, tinted gray.

    Shift the capo, strum a chord
    and pray to every god and lord
    that she'll, one day, come back to us.
    Rusting Innocence.