Hail Thy Kings and Queens

I am the King And you are the Queen Folded in our self-preserving Gasconade I stitch their mouths You cut their arms And save the battle for Another year They face the witches In their dreams The smoke of the dragon Is but a mist We whisper a melody To shut their eyes But howl a myth To thrust the Sight Brace thy regimen Our little prides Our hair’s a mane Golden from strife