It was an old tradition, passed down and down -- don't you have one?
-- a water tradition?
She would stand in the middle of her room
All painted in yellow, wearing a pretty dress, pigtales
-- perhaps a special saying?
Taking the dust from the bottle -- purple to be precise
May, I excuse you sir -- it had to be purple
-- special teddy bear -- am I reminding you?
She disappeared into her world of safety, her world of delight
Doing a fairy dust circle, sprinkling her childhood memory
-- Is was but years later
She remembered why, why the fairy dust circle was there
It was for the monsters -- for that ugly smiling one
-- Hidden in the cupboard, dark
Her fathers smile would bring her nightmares
Screams, of weird fright, illusions of the night
-- Nightmare under the covers, dare to be spoken
The circling fan, that made noises, praying
The creaks, squeals and whistles -- as she listened to his footsteps
-- Noises that go bump in the night, it was real
She would sit in her circle, protected
A childs' remedy -- a childs' delight, safe in her minds eye
-- Today in her office
Sits a circle painting, slowly she smiles
And she stares at it, softly -- as they walk into the room
