and I am a troubadour, but I am not your troubadour
my scarlet silks flutter, ember-red, in the breeze, not to you
away from you, from the soft kind heart of the Fool-- like you!
and beautiful and red is Kamala's mouth,
but blood demands blood and poison begets poison
and I'd frighten the heart of a Fool like you.

oh, but I am Herodias' daughter,
and yet despite this all, have I ever demanded a head?