Dreaming my life away
Wondering when he will come
That prince on his horse
It doesn't even have to be white
Sitting by the window
Looking over the fields
My hair is long enough
So he can climb towards me
Who started the story telling?
About rugged, brave men
And damsels in distress
Which made us wait and wait
There is no mister right
Or a mister wrong for that matter
Perhaps there is a mister right now
But is there a 'mister right for you'?
We women believe those stupid stories
In movies and in books
We wait and wait for the right one
To come along
And because of that
We don't want to see
What we have
Right in front of us
Stupid, stupid girls…
© KH
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