Like an inverted fairytale it goes
The maiden liveing in a black tower
The inner keep's wall to keep the demons in
The outer wall to deter princes
Their white horses soon to be tarnished
By the dust of the road
The ones that get closest
Ride upon the road less traveled by

The castle sits on hill
Above a vale
And the peasents who dwelt there
When the maiden went in
Are long since dead and intered
In the stave church burnt down
And the peasents who dwell by the castle now
Wonder what happened and when she'll return

On ocassion, the path from castle to vale
Is taken as the haunt
Of a ghost who wanders
Carrying a beaming mask
Painted in poetry of the maiden's face
But at times the eyes
Behind this mask, they speak of truths
Truths the maiden would hide
The ghost dons black
fleeing to its massolium

Sitting without sleep, ages pass
To the beats of Rush and Nine Inch Nails
The maiden waits for the world to change
Forgetting completely
It was she who painted the vale
Long ago in the begining
She does not see the walking art restored by her hand

Once in a while a crumpled parchment
Flys over the walls
Reminders in calligraphy, Gandi's words
Perhaps ignored, they go into the fire
A breif warm comfort on yet another
Too cold night spent sleepless
And locked in philosophy