Out here, the good girls die
And the sky won’t snow
Out here, the birds don’t sing
Out here, the fields don’t grow
Out here, the bell don’t ring
Out here, the good girls die
Now Cinderella, don’t you go to sleep
It’s such a bitter form of refuge
Oh don’t you know, the kingdom’s under siege
And everybody needs you
Is there still magic in the midnight sun
Or did you leave it back in ’61?
In the cadence of a young man’s eyes
Out where the dreams all hide