Old Queens Head

There’s a bar of rumor road
A dormitory of deeds that interest me
And one such as he or she who feeds off
The floor, the fruits are bittersweet
They were good enough to eat for Eve
So they should be good enough to eat for me
And the madame of this place is my old queen
And she eats these fruits exclusively
But they’re merciless to the angels
The royal blooded, sweetened heart
And my queen is all three of these
The patriots of class
And the cynics they all raise a toast
To the broken and the dead
And the romantic simplifies the most
With the old queens head
I’ve stumbled drunk enough times
From this room to home, with many wounds
To know that nothings mean more than
The force of faith beneath the moon
But I’m a romantic who has never had romance
A lover who’s never had love’s dance
Next to the royalty who is skewered on a lance
The optimists tempt me to take a chance