My knife can’t slice their shows no more
When there’s no life to heal its edge
And they who poured my soul with youth
Have hearts to rip my years for months

So hail the witch who stole my crown
The witch who burned my hands with months
If you can read my words with glee
You know that days will end your months

To lose the votes of those I’ve built
Will bring the end of what you hoard
It’s how the one with days to spare
Will rid your knife of all its edge

The edge to set your life in flames
And raze the months you had to smoke
That’s how you’ll find me on your throne
If you can live your life in years.


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