From up above her curtain.
So, what's it gonna be, she asked,
Befalling the uncertain.
She rolled the dice on our behalf
To forecast the most somber,
A bleak subscription to a past
Where ghosts forever wander.
Forsake your dreams of wild,
Indulge your master's every whim,
Portray the angel child.
Or either go and turn your back
To the life of hopeless battle
Between the poles of light and dark
Where all your bones would rattle.
I'm gonna do my best, she said,
To even out the odds,
By flight into the cuckoos nest,
By mercy of the gods.
But don't delude yourself, my girl,
Pretending to be sane
Is like pretending to be kind
To entertain the pain.
So did the iron lady sing
My heart to a safe haven
Where life and death together bring
To birth the iron maiden.
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