Regina.
The king has a lousy six dollar whore in his bed.
His kingdom crowned with dead flowers bought from the stock market,
which are merchandised by thieves and murderers,
all in one singing in a drunken comatose of a whopping quackery;
"Oh, we don´t loathe the alcohol! Must love the alcohol!"
--On and on and on...
With pulpy graylings sleeping on the walls,
stargazers bawl upon the new grown western towns.
There´s a backstop
with sentences so small,
they only come out in the filmy lower-cases,
never to be read by a proper reader, or by anyone.
"You´re not my hero, actually you´re kind of a tramp,
but I love you, for you´re my queen... but then again,
our sexlife could be better."
On the same minute he´s shouting bitterly in his realm.
"I am the monarch, you are my queen.
I must say we were never ment to be."
His kingdom crowned with dead flowers bought from the stock market,
which are merchandised by thieves and murderers,
all in one singing in a drunken comatose of a whopping quackery;
"Oh, we don´t loathe the alcohol! Must love the alcohol!"
--On and on and on...
With pulpy graylings sleeping on the walls,
stargazers bawl upon the new grown western towns.
There´s a backstop
with sentences so small,
they only come out in the filmy lower-cases,
never to be read by a proper reader, or by anyone.
"You´re not my hero, actually you´re kind of a tramp,
but I love you, for you´re my queen... but then again,
our sexlife could be better."
On the same minute he´s shouting bitterly in his realm.
"I am the monarch, you are my queen.
I must say we were never ment to be."