Dorothy just wanted something that she could believe in,
A gray dustbowl girl in a life she was better off leavinâ.
She made her escape, went from gray into green,
And she could have got clear, and she could have got clean,
But she chose to be good and go back to the gray Kansas sky
Where colorâs a fable and freedomâs a fairy tale lie.
Alice got lost, and I guess that we really canât blame her;
They say she got tangled and tied in the lies that became her.
They say she went mad, and she never complained,
For thereâs peace of a kind in a life unconstrained.
She gives Cheshire kisses, sheâs easy with white rabbit smiles,
And sheâll never be free, but sheâs won herself safe for a while.
Susan and Lucy were queens, and they ruled well and proudly.
They honored their land and their lord, rang the bells long and loudly.
They never once asked to return to their lives
To be children and chattel and mothers and wives,
But the land cast them out in a lesson that only one learned;
And one queen said âI am not a toyâ, and she never returned.
Mandyâs a pirate, and Mia weaves silk shrouds for faeries,
And Deborah will pour you red wine pressed from sweet poisoned berries.
Kate poses riddles and Mary plays tricks,
While Kaia builds towers from brambles and sticks,
And the rules that we live by are simple and clear:
Be wicked and lovely and donât live in fear
    Dorothy, Alice and Wendy and Jane,
    Susan and Lucy, weâre calling your names,
    All the Lost Girls who came out of the rain
    And chose to go back on the shelf.
    Tinker Bell says, and I find I agree
    You have to break rules if you want to break free.
    So do as you like â weâre determined to be
    Wicked girls saving ourselves.
For we will be wicked and we will be fair
And theyâll call us such names, and we really wonât care,
So go, tell your Wendys, your Susans, your Janes,
Thereâs a place they can go if theyâre tired of chains,
And our roads may be golden, or broken, or lost,
But weâll walk on them willingly, knowing the cost â
We wonât take our place on the shelves.
Itâs better to fly and itâs better to die
Say the wicked girls saving ourselves.
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