in search of a white horse rider
that one that gallops swift through the forest
just to sweep me off my feet
velvet cloak ripped by thorned branched trees
all to come and rescue the damsel in me?
Iíll be in that white tattered gown so frail
withering away as I stand there...
dreaming of you on that white horse
what if itís an angel Iíll meet indeed
or just a prince who knows not royalty
how my humor has become haunted
all by your false prance...
Get off your white horse.
Ride by and say farewell at last.
Can't you see your horse is red?