Queens in Monochrome

A girl’s in the street
and her hair’s in her eyes
and she’s throwing her stones at the lights.
She’s stupid and blind and she stands in the flames
and she laughs in the wintery nights.

She falls to the floor with a china-doll smile;
she’s turning her back on her fathers and all;
it’s fine, since their backs have been turned for a while.
She’s ever so clever, and ever so small.

Her left and her right are the bridges she’s burned;
Her road has no future to fear;
behind, good intentions are patchworks of glass
and above, pearly gates disappear.

She sees a way out. It’s been taken before
by the near and the dear and the damned.
But she’s lucky enough to knock twice on your door.
You offer your beautiful hand –

The girl is now dead. There’s no body to see
But a chrysalis – you showed her wings and she’s free
And the sniveling thing that you caught became me.