When
I was but a little girl I used to dream
a dream,
That I was a beautiful princess and my father
was the king.
And when I got very lonely and a tear would
creep down my cheek,
I'd sit all alone on the windowsill and
my wonderful dream I would seek.
I'd close my eyes very tight thinking of
my dream, and there in my mind would be
our castle, so real I could touch it, it
seemed.
But now that I am older my dream has disappeared,
The princess went away and I'm filled with
doubt and fear.
Now on rainy days I find instead of fantasy
so real,
I'm just a little girl, sitting all alone
and crying, on the windowsill.
