The metropolitan queen

She’s a 60’s queen,

Magic and music starts with the click of her heals,

She’s grace with a liking for chaos,

She’s got a field of roses in her bedroom,

With a little essence of blood dripping through,

Red dresses and dark blue earrings,

She can steal the show every time she walks in,

Cause everybody loves her beauty,

Everybody loves her body that shines like gold,

She peels off personalities like a snake sheds skin,

She’s got a long list of names cancelled with red ink,

A never ending queue of jokers pretending to be kings,

In all her parties, she’s got the dance ball full of people falling in love along with the music,

She’s got a buffet full of gold for fools,

Her night is a sky full of ashes of the cigarettes she smokes,

Her city echoes of distant sirens,

And just the blink of aeroplanes that look like occasional stars,

She’s a metropolitan lady,

For whom love is a myth, and if you rage a war she’ll always be ready.



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