Skin and bones.
Reckless.
Young and naive.
Always degraded for what she believes.
Sick of a world with no imagination or pictures,
She followes a rabbit with pink eyes and long whiskers.

Down a hole, headfirst, she dives into a dream.
A marvelous taste of a macabre requiem.
Past rocking chairs, cabinets, and marmalade jars,
An overactive imagination was the fault in her stars.

She's drowning in her own tears, a salty bitter sea,
And her fear is replaced with the knowledge she's free.
But along swims a mouse with poise and grace,
And invites her to join in the never ending race.

Round and round to run is a small price to pay,
For warmth and thimbles, she'd run all day.
The imagination they crushed now begins to brighten,
And the strange creatures around now cease to frighten.

Growning bigger and smaller within her own mind,
Searching for a place it wouldn't matter to find,
Left or right, it won't make a difference, you know?
A Hatter, a Hare, still nowhere to go.

An invitation to play croquet with the queen,
Is neither as enticing or as fun as it seems.
Dear Alice, it appears you've once again lost your head.
Dear Alice, it appears your dream is finally dead.