Miss Little

In my little bubble, slow it down a little, make me bolt and giggle.
That Path? I've seen it before, it shuns but Will never restore.
I took it, I took the path you see, it led me to pretty places some oversea,
Safe I thought, insane though I was, forced to believe I could break those walls.
Why they called me miss little.

sweet words full of malice, sang to cupid at sixteen trying to find my solace.
alas bless my Romeo, took me to prom and through the storm.
Did he get me that spark, the spark on my face at day? The one that breaks the sombre play?
They didn't know that part, they laughed at my table and whispered behind my temple.
So they called me miss little.

About the blouse that I wore to the party,
at 20 when the cloud seemed sorry, maybe mad for some story,
They were sure that was not holy, yet they broke the bubble's sole folly.
Vulnerable to all that mess, the one that we think we'd miss?
Can any of you play wish with beggars if they had ponies?
They got to have what you need or pennies.
In a bubble you see so much, because you listen but don't mouth.
Yet they called me miss little.

No longer about saving the world, California has it's heroes I guess,
who is your solace after recess? When bells ring and you grouped in classes,
when it's not blood just races,
when you short, tall, petite or all those masses?
Will you still call me miss little?