Hold on
With an iron grip
And watch your step
Among the thorns
That cries for skin
In which to prick
Beauties born
And naive minds
Infinite slumber
To inflict
A needle's eye
Would do less harm
If you would see
The poison tip
Instead of trusting
Malicious smiles
And rotten apples
Which you have bit
And now you dare
To dream things true
Although you prefered
To wear ball gowns
That do not fit
And crowns crafted
From zirconium jewels
Your worlds collide
Because they're split
Princess you've dreamt
Your life away
The worst of crimes
You could commit
And now you clutch
Onto my hand
The other holds
Half an apple
And you wonder where's
The rest of it.