I am the ghost of a dream long dead,
chained in the dungeon of your heart
A fettered fantasy locked in your head
retained as a mummified storybook part
You dream of a savior with a slaves behavior
You say from any old soul could fulfill this goal
But with their failure they fall out of favor
Only a shiny knight\'s role can you cajole
You gave up fairy-tales as a child
Straw can not be spun into gold
You pull nature\'s flowers, as weeds reviled
Why must even God be controlled?
So until it can be said that the last ghost has fled,
I\'ll sound the knell of this phantom bell
Crying “Bury your dead, from them beautiful flowers are fed
So release me from the spell so fell of your wishing-well”