The Woman Who

Overthrown so long ago
She sees the throne upon which she shagged
It's not that someone else is there
It's that no one could deal with that
Now I'm a propeller in the swamp
And I've got another twenty to go
Ensnared in her grasp
By the scepter which she holds
She just keeps me down
And when I turn around
She's got the chain that keeps me there
With only ten more to go
With only ten more to go
Until I'm complete

Now I'm a plow that's part of the scene
In a work by Pieter Bruegel
You know the one with the winged man
And the farmer continued to plow, oh hell!
She just tears it down
Throws it on the ground
She's got the whip that keeps me hers
With only five more to go
With only five more to go until I'm obsolete

She had to read Mirbeau to feel
The way that her highness should
We're all the poisoned, mortal wound of this world
An embroidered dress, with Clara on your back
With Clara on your back, with Clara on your back

Now I'm the horse in the Junkers night
In the slaughter of the quiet town
She was the lightbulb in the street
She'd never heard what Picaso avowed
She lays the sword down
And now I'm prone on the ground
She's got little left to hold
And there's only one more now
And only one more now until there's tags on my feet
Now she's a Tibetan lamasery
And I'm the operator at fault
When I walked, I looked up "overhead, without a fuss, the stars were going out"
She's wearing a tilted crown
But then a shotgun sound
I'm a heap of leaves from her maple tree
And there's no more left in these old bones
And there's no more left in these old bones
And there's no more left in these old bones
And I can finally sleep
And I can finally sleep