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No she donât like it
The Queen has come to claim her crown
Gesturing down a corridor of snails
The bigot leads me along, leads me astray
Bring him forth, let him speak, let him plead his case for me
Thereâs something lost beneath the evidence
Let him testify
Let him sing
Here I am
And able man is all I am and Iâll serve you right
But no, she donât like it
The Queen
Youâre free to leave
Consider your debts stripped clean
But the city outside, they sharpened their knives
Through incandescent, interchanging light
They saw him alone
Hope for our souls
When they mob and they stab and they crush him
Everything inside of him explodes
Witness, and we feel it
Hope for our souls
When we look and we feel nothing
Witness, and we feel everything.