There in the court
with the massive Queen
which sits in the middle of the great hall
just spitting out words to the masses, orders
Our lovely maiden–anticipates
swords unsheathed all in a row, stiff
swords unsheathed all in a row, stiff
a queue of would be gentlemen await her
across the entrance of the great hall.
While their hands tightly grasp their swords
their lips whispering of her great deeds,
it rains as the Queen loudly drowns away
a soothing sound of water coming down.
If it doesn't rain, the land withers.
If it doesn't rain, the crops die.
If it doesn't rain, there is no dinner.
If it doesn't rain, babies starve.
So she saves the world
enchanting crowds with red lips
floats across the open court
on her nimbus cloud.
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