They stare at her, the crowds, the throngs
She keeps her head down as the cart bumps along
To the front, where her bane creeps closer still
If she doesn’t take a step, the blade surely will
She swallows down the useless tears
She was but a lady of thirty-seven years
Her life begins flashing before her sky-blue eyes
She visits each place one more time before she dies
Lovely music in the theatres of Austria
Living in the splendour of a grand palace in Vienna
A hall of mirrors, a planned wedding day
On the sixteenth of the merry month of May
Warm summers in the Schönbrunn gardens -
She steps on the executioner’s foot and begs her pardon
Some were silent; some called her ****** names
They were still shouting when the time finally came
She hoped for a world much better than this
The blade sliced her neck like a goodbye kiss.