The Virgin Queen
Men who shoot their horsesAre the same men who wouldlike to kiss your hand(They're waiting, in the ballrooms and the bedrooms and the bathrooms)Men who shoot their horsesAre the same men who wouldGo and shoot a friend(Save him from chemo, my husband from chemo)
The virgin queenThe virgin queenThe virgin queen
Headless mother,Heartless father,Ghosts of yes-men past and futureIn the bedroom you must suture upThat hole where the babies come fromEngland, oh, EnglandNever forsake meWon't you take me to have and to hold?I may be a crude, cruel womanBut in the distance I hear Shakespeare mumbling:
"Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to sufferThe slings and arrows of outrageous fortuneOr to take arms against a sea of troubled, troubled, troubles"
England, England, never forsake meWon't you take me to have and to hold?I can hear the voices rising
The virgin queenThe virgin queenThe virgin queenThe virgin queen
In the end you'll try to rule as best as you canBut the crown gets cold and the mind gets oldAnd all the gold could invite my soulsTo a place to come home to
In the end there's just a bedAnd the things we made have begun to fadeOn the distant shores new voices are rising
[Regina singing gibberish]
The virgin queenThe virgin queenThe virgin queenThe virgin queen