Release may come quite slowly
The shedding of a skin
She’s clinging to the mascarade
(and that which lies within)
The s-stuttering of puppets
The fluttering of wings
The final curtain closes
With the cutting of her strings

She needs a place to hide
She fears the Mannequin
Her bright and shiny mirror
Reflecting the strangest things
She sings “Come down to the lakeside
There were omens in the leaves
Come on down to the lakeside
To those dark and swooping trees"

Are these flaws inside the shiny glass
Teardrops formed from a misty past?
Nothing really dies down here
And nothing ever lasts
No, it never lasts

She dreams about the Prince to come
And the prophecies of Kings
There’s a scratching at the railings
Screeching laughter rings
Nothing she can do but hide
The emptiness she feels inside
Waiting like the water
For the gift she knows he brings

Prophecies of violence
The touch of past mistakes
Teardrops fall to Order
The surface gently breaks
Come down to the boathouse
Where the water gently aches
One kiss in this silence . . .
This Princess never wakes

The beckoning lake - the threatening lake
Is all to come - is not too late
These prophecies move history
But darkly through the glass
Come with us to the other side
Where all the doors are open wide
The boatman waits for your reply
And all is yet to pass

Staring into the swirling glass
Doors open from a misty past
Nothing really dies down here
And nothing ever lasts
No, it never lasts.

Come down to the water
Madonna’s fateful daughter
Come down to the water
Where the hyacinths form wreaths
Come down to the lilies
There were omens in the tea leaves
Come on down to the lakeside
To those dark and swooping trees

In whirling conversations
She feels a cold sensation
Reflecting in the mirror
Sees the Mannequin
Come with me to the water
The dark and swirling water
Come on down to the lakeside
It’s for you
It’s for you these bells that ring