they are your subjects
following you blindly
and raising no objects
yet you don’t treat them kindly

I’ve heard the things you say
and I’ve listened to the way you laugh
I’m sorry to drop your silver tray
but I’m done handing you this trash

no more will I feed you
no more will I dress you
no more will I enable you
no more will I sit beneath you

you may be their queen
but you’ll never be mine
bask in that pleasant dream
it’ll be over in no time