She lives in a room
In a house on a hill,
A fantastic entrapment,
A four story victorian nightmare,
Paintings that watch her,
Statues that stalk her,
Trap door, false wall, secret corridor,
Uncast shadows leading lives of their own.
Melancholy are the days,
The night time for wandering,
In her dressing gown,
Upstairs and down.
She spends her time here,
battling gryphon, goblin and goon.
She's lived among the shadows
So long, she's become one of them,
She's the sister of the moon,
And the beauty of her situation,
Can never be seen.