your smile lit his soul,
and your eyes kept him tall,
your light wrote the way,
but four hundred days later he's cold.
and now he sighs,
as his hope runs dry,
and he asks,
are you ready yet?
you told him stories of,
how he's a prince,
fighting the demons inside.
and now he sighs,
as his hope runs dry,
and he asks,
are you ready yet?
your beauty it shone to him,
but four hundred days later he's cold.
and now he sighs,
as his hope runs dry,
and he asks,
are you ready yet?
and now he dreams
of what he built her to be,
and now he dreams
of what he built her to be.