As she sits upon a throne she sees all that is.
Nothing else is here, nothing else exists.
Life is only what meets the eye, past it an abyss.

The crown on her head, too heavy to hold.
Her neck slowly grows bent, as she gets old.
Eyes now sad, like a cow marching to the block.

Little does she know, she's only a child.
Nothing more than a dreamer at home.
Sleeping peacefully, surrounded by pink walls.