Among the silk and empty cans
Stood a queen of well-known plans
Ghosts of the slain warned above:
“Evil bore a gentle dove”
Yet sips of debt tasted sweet
In the shadows they would meet
Yes, the poison worked once more
Venom from a jungle floor
Leers and scowls were cast in haze
All to ease a tired man’s days
And broken souls hung from strings
Dripping the songs of lost things
And time came for his number
To meet his fateful slumber
During that final sentence
Roared a cry of repentance:
“Sweeter than the power of deception,
Is that bitter gasp for her reception”