You used to count on the miracles
The old shot in the dark
You used to wait for the setting sun
To help you hit your mark
You used to stand on the tables
You used to shoot out the lights
You dressed right out of the fables
Like the arabian nights
But you were never the princess
More like the queen of the thieves
And my heart was never more than one of the many
A queen receives
So many roads I know, all I want is one to take me home.
This is what makes sense to me.