Highly Superstitious

The king is sleeping
God save the king
Enough of me
How about a sip of you?
My lovely red
Nowhere near my bed
And neither should you
Me so undeserving
Not to mention the stains
On my freshly washed sheets
But you are my queen
And all I have is yours
Another lie, from my seedy breath
For it is mine
And you are theirs
You belong to no-one
And never will
No sin in that, I'm sure
Plenty of pain, and more
We all go in the end
Some sleep on
Some are saved