Made of flesh and blood Are river's flood Never enough to sate my being I am that which you see yet cannot for disbleief at what you're seeing They die one by one as I command I hope that you understand This is who I am The Queen among the damned
White fingers stretch to the sky Willing, oh hoping someone hears their cry Washed so white it seems a paradox Something perhaps akin to Pandora's box The color of purity and symbol of the dead A lie of what it says yet exactly what it said
O' am I not the mistress of sin? Locked in the ways of the World, what will be, what is, and has been I am the temptress at every door Giving freely what is asked and taking much more I am what wanted to be Until you really see, the horrific being of me
Just look! Just look at my Throne of Bone, how it glistens in the night The stars pay it homage with their twinkling lights All of it an elegant monstrosity Fit for the life of one, just of me Twisted knuckles braced against pale hands stretching out for sun Even as all that that is past is done With cracked hips supporting my own, built on the sorrow of every soul I hear them whisper "My Queen" into what you might call a heart and I a hole The pitch black night calls out for me, waitingto steal my life as I have stolen so many others "Come with me" it sings in it's raspy voice, as mine it smothers
I sit upon my Throne of Bone, the evidence of all I've reaped The guilt, now of which has seeped Beyond anything that kept me sane The white twitches and moves, it begins to swallow me as I scream in pain Each bone folds in on itself, eating me whole Poke, and push, and prod, and pull The darkness slinks ever nearer Taking all that is anything and more to be sure
Be careful as you sleep at night Know when you wake in fright It's me calling, o' calling away Staring out from my lidless sockets nestled in a whitle washed face, it is me who sings for you from my empty skull to stay I had sat upon my Throne of Bone so long As the souls of the dead cried me their cries and sang me their songs Now I have cries of my own to cry, just as I have songs to sing As each dead figure supports me who have joined their ranks All dead ashore my endless banks They were my jewels, a prize for the Queen who would never fall And now? Well, I'm the crowning glory of them all
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Are river's flood
Never enough to sate my being
I am that which you see yet cannot for disbleief at what you're seeing
They die one by one as I command
I hope that you understand
This is who I am
The Queen among the damned
White fingers stretch to the sky
Willing, oh hoping someone hears their cry
Washed so white it seems a paradox
Something perhaps akin to Pandora's box
The color of purity and symbol of the dead
A lie of what it says yet exactly what it said
O' am I not the mistress of sin?
Locked in the ways of the World, what will be, what is, and has been
I am the temptress at every door
Giving freely what is asked and taking much more
I am what wanted to be
Until you really see, the horrific being of me
Just look! Just look at my Throne of Bone, how it glistens in the night
The stars pay it homage with their twinkling lights
All of it an elegant monstrosity
Fit for the life of one, just of me
Twisted knuckles braced against pale hands stretching out for sun
Even as all that that is past is done
With cracked hips supporting my own, built on the sorrow of every soul
I hear them whisper "My Queen" into what you might call a heart and I a hole
The pitch black night calls out for me, waitingto steal my life as I have stolen so many others
"Come with me" it sings in it's raspy voice, as mine it smothers
I sit upon my Throne of Bone, the evidence of all I've reaped
The guilt, now of which has seeped
Beyond anything that kept me sane
The white twitches and moves, it begins to swallow me as I scream in pain
Each bone folds in on itself, eating me whole
Poke, and push, and prod, and pull
The darkness slinks ever nearer
Taking all that is anything and more to be sure
Be careful as you sleep at night
Know when you wake in fright
It's me calling, o' calling away
Staring out from my lidless sockets nestled in a whitle washed face, it is me who sings for you from my empty skull to stay
I had sat upon my Throne of Bone so long
As the souls of the dead cried me their cries and sang me their songs
Now I have cries of my own to cry, just as I have songs to sing
As each dead figure supports me who have joined their ranks
All dead ashore my endless banks
They were my jewels, a prize for the Queen who would never fall
And now? Well, I'm the crowning glory of them all