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Men who would shoot their
Horses are the
Same men who would
Like to kiss your hand
[You love the wait, in the ballrooms
And the bedrooms, and the, and the...]
Men who shoot their
Horses are the
Same men who will
Draw and shoot our friend
[Save him from chemo, husband from chemo]
The virgin queen...
Headless mother
Heartless father
Ghosts of yes men past and future
In the bedroom you will suture
Up that hole
Where babies come from
England, oh, england
Never forsake me
Won't you take me to have and to hold
I may be a cruel, crude woman
But in the distance I hear Shakespeare mumbling
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune
Or to take arms against the sea of troubles...
England, England, never forsake me
Won't you take me to have and to hold
I can hear the voice rising up
The virgin queen...
In the end
They try to rule
As best they can
But the crown gets cold
And mind gets old
And all the gold
Getting back my soul is in places unknown to be
In the end
Is just a bed
And the things we have made
Have begun to fade
On the distant shores new voices are rising...
The virgin queen...
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