There's little point to life as a princess in a tower,
Gazing out for princes and sitting by the hour.
There's little fun in being one of those Fairytale queens,
Those girls don't get real lives; they're never really teens.
It's pointless really being regal and beauty being all,
Where nothing matters but the day a prince will come to call.
It's ridiculous how we rely on a man to change our lives,
And make us into respecting, grand and happy prospering wives.
There's little point to lives of stillness, waiting for a man,
I propose we princesses revolt while we still can.
Just grab your brooms and hairbrushes and run from towers out!
Leave the restraints of dull, grey castles! Give freedom a long-last shout!
Princesses can be a hoot, and independent too,
Of the pale and weak and willowy type? There'll always be a few.
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