Lo, and lo!
There aren’t queens, ho!
There are streets you paint with gold
And dreams told of pearl
Stung with lanterns bright
With promise since earned by day
Spurned to fright
Tuned to phantoms a-flail and scorched into sky
Forgive, forgive what’s kind
Make believe, make believe
Poppies make ‘em sleep like a witch dooms mine
Make believe, make believe midnight’s chime
‘cause they closed the cantina
They closed the cardinal rouge
They drove ‘ol Angelina
Shuttered her with dread
Oh, hearth, hearth of a great war
Your first chance fills my hand
Penultimate and vast
Say it so, there aren’t queens, lo!
By what means though shall we reign
‘Gainst pitched black and Union Jack
Your gods aren’t coming back
The owl’s in the knave
Ghost-cinders, tinder-safe
Forgive, forgive what’s asked
Make believe, make believe
Poppies make ‘em sleep like a witch churns ash
Make believe, make believe
My loom and lash
Make believe, make believe
My loom and lash
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