She's forgotten where she came from and who loved her,
Those fairy tales and bedtime stories she can no longer recall.
Only strangers that smother her in stinky sweat and hot breath
which to her is a matter of slow, painful death.
She cannot recall the dreams of her younger years, for they have been washed away long ago in a tsunami of tears.
That day in September all she can remember, is she should have turned left instead of right,
Now there is nowhere to turn and it's useless to fight.
Where is that handsome Prince to rescue me?