old lace is discarded, and cobwebs have formed
the land is filled with rot
it'd be so simple to end this tryanny
so simple, and yet not

beauty is pure as pure as such tremendous beauty can be
you sat on your throne like a queen
painted on cream canvas with water and mud
the old black and white photo aged by yellow scheme

harsh prejudice perhaps forced your hand at first
but do not think me such a fool
as to believe that you had nothing to gain from this
using your friends as tools

the shatterglasses that spew out sand
to spell the waves of time
have brought word of your demise
the shatterglasses never lie, they know all the signs

and you flirted with the gods of Jezebel
you betrothed yourself to shame
you gave yourself such a sickly, greedy glow
you have lost the will to turn back, and have completely forsaken my name