In the house of Good and
Evil
the man is king but the
words are weapons
it doesn't matter, the
king he's angry
he doesn't know that it's
all a game.
He has a queen, her name
is Irony
she don't know much, but
has some money
she dyes her hair and
loves shopping
she can't remember her
maiden name.
The queen she walks, into
a steeple
her folded hands, they
pray for safety
her tired eyes, they need
new vision
she takes communion accepting doubt.
They sit together in the
park
and there's no reason to
be talking
and all around them, are
brilliant colours
but they only see in
black and white.
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