I grew up on the day my father died

I grew up on the day my father died
The day I held her hand for the last time
I grew up on the day that I kissed goodbye
My last kiss on the forehead learned

I grew up on the day that I met
I never can sit on the throne of his tour
This was the throne where I sat and thought
I was his little princess

Gone are the tales and wings
But they will have
In the treasure chest of my heart
Yet, I heard my whisper Pope: "Shut up princess, do not cry"

I know I always hear his voice inside me:
"You are my daughter, I know that there is nothing you can not do"
Perhaps, from now on, I believe in myself
The Pope ever believed in me

Ironic, as he dreamed of
A walk with me in white down that long corridor
Now, I would be in black
that he would walk through the aisle

However, in both cases,
He said with a smile these lines exactly the same:
"Quiet, Princess, do not cry,
My little girl is a woman now "

I grew up on the day my father died
His warm breath I could not hear
I grew up on the day when I faced death,

And smiled as my dad
And smiled as my dad did.