Why are you, mighty Queen, staying all alone on the 8th floor?
Amongst the cloudy roofs, merely a shadow behind bolted doors?

A mountain of courage on the back of a fearless horse,
You conquered the world without a drop of remorse.

In your midlife years, love instead, conquered you,
Like a butterfly in a cavity, you became just a nice view.

A world you once looked up to, inspired by all its possibilities,
Morphed into the deepest of graves, the color of infidelity.

Do the sounds from the ***** downstairs transcend to your room?
A life and death contrast, the lights and the gloom, your King and you.

Under grand chandeliers, I saw a pretty mannequin hanging off his arm,
Dancing their tour through the castle, luring her with his charm.

He tell-tales the story of how you have gone mad,
How he failed trying to save the good girl from going bad.

Oh Queen, what are you doing? Reminiscing in your royal swing?
Painting pictures of the future you thought you'd have with the King?

Who is that man? The King?
- They said they heard a chuckle -
A man you met in a farm town, the one you showed the life of castles.

You remember sweeping his hair back and placing a crown on his head,
Him claiming that he loved you till the day he became one of the dead.

Till his howls of laughter and the clink of his cup became all you heard from him,
This vast enchanting castle suddenly started to become a place so dim.

Months were torn from calenders, cities and empires claimed to be his,
The world found a new conqueror, while you're getting lost in the abyss.

Queen, take off your shrouds, let us hear the clicks of your heels,
The King chokes on his apple as he looks up and your face he sees.

Rumor has it, you're changing your army, they're all now females,
You're choosing to place your trust in a place with no fear of derail.

Silence struck the line of pretty conquests awaiting the charming King,
When they saw you descending down the staircase, in your hand his silver ring.

You wore your cloak of quietness all those months, betraying no signs,
It's true what they say, sometimes the quite ones have the loudest minds.

The servants sweep the ashes of what used to be a treacherous King,
In his mighty crown, you pour oblivion and you drink.

Once again you grip the reins and fill the enormous throne,
You thought you'd balance loving and ruling, but you must choose one.

Being a slave to your fragile heart was never a desire of yours,
You're a Queen and those are doomed to live with their hearts closed.