Queen's High

Sitting pretty
And high
And alone
The Queen watches
From atop
That marble and
Barbed-wire throne.

How can she stand?
How can she smile?
How can she move
Beneath those pressures
On her shoulders?

This is her world,
This is her land
This is her prison
She chose herself.

Her highest high
Is her only feeling.
It's all she's allowed-
Any lower,
And the world
Will swallow her
And leave her forgotten
In time.

So there she'll sit,
And smile,
And rule-
Knowing she's alone
In her prison
She built
Herself.